Sinners  {Twain 


|UNIT,  OF  CALIF.  LIBRARY.  LOS  ANGELA 


TWENTIETH   CENTURY   SERIES. 


In  the  Midst  of  Alarms 
The  Devil's  Playground 
The  Face  and  the  Mask 
The  Phantom  Death  .    . 
Sinners  Twain      .    .    . 


.  .  Robert  Barr 
,  .  John  Mackie 

.    .  Robert  Barr 

W.  Clark  Russell 

.  John  Mackie 


Others  in  Preparation. 


UNCOMMONLY    BADLY 


Sinners  Twain 


•a  "Romance  of  tbe  <5reat  atone  2Lano 


BY  JOHN  MACKIE 


Illustrated  by  A.  Hencke 


Hew  Uorfc 
FREDERICK  A.  STOKES  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


Copyright,  1895,  by 
FREDERICK  A.  STOKES  COMPANY 


Stack 
Annex 

PR 


CONTENTS. 

CHAP.  PAGE. 

I.     THE  GIRL  AND  THE    SMUGGLER  I 
II.      A     NORTH-WEST      MOUNTED-PO- 

LICE PARTY                 .               .  14 

III.      "  A  CAD  OF  THE  FIRST  WATER  !  "  23 
IV.      "  WILL     YOU     DO     AS      I     WANT 

YOU?"     .  .  .  -SI 

V.      HER  MANY  MOODS         .               .  45 

VI.      HIS  DEAD  SELF       .               .  52 

VII.     AN  UNCONSCIOUS  PRECEPTOR  63 

VIII.      "  AN         UNCOMMONLY         BADLY 

FROZEN  EAR  "    .               .               .  ?2 

IX.      WHAT  A  GIRL  WILL  DO  83 

X.     A  TERRIBLE  TIME                 .               .  90 

XI.     "  GET  ON  HER  TRAIL,  PIERRE  "  10$ 

XII.      A  PURSUIT,  A    CAPTURE,  AND    A 

SURPRISE       .               .               .  119 

XIII.  THE   PULLMAN  AND  THE    SNOW- 

CLAD  PRAIRIE    .  .  .      138 

XIV.  IN  WHICH  THE  PRECOCIOUS  PRI- 

VATE   GETS    EVEN    WITH  THE 

SERGEANT  AND  THE  SCOUT  148 
XV.      A         UNIQUE         ORDERLY-ROOM 

SCENE  .  .  ..  159 

XVI.  SOME  LIVES  FROM  THE  RANKS     .  172 

XVII.  OVERHEARD  BY  THE  OLD  CROW  182 


213178.1 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  GIRL  AND  THE  SMUGGLER. 

SHE  was  a  prairie  flower,  truly,  although 
there  were  some  who  would  have  called  her  a 
rare  exotic.  For  the  climate  of  the  Canadian 
North- West  is  not  particularly  conducive  to 
female  loveliness  :  its  extremes  are  too  trying  : 
the  fierce  withering  dry  heat  of  summer,  and 
the  keen  biting  winds  of  winter,  have  a  tendency 
to  roughen  and  rob  the  fairest  and  softest  cheek 
of  its  bloom.  But  then,  perhaps,  on  this  the 
south-western  slope  of  the  Cypress  Hills,  just 
across  from  the  Sweet  Grass  HHls  in  Montana, 
and  towards  the  foot-hills  of  the  Rockies,  a  lit- 
tle more  immunity  from  such  ravages  is  granted. 
For  here,  on  the  illimitable  stretches  of  coullee- 
scarred  prairie,  the  soft  warm  winds  from  the 
Pacific  Ocean  find  their  way  over  and  through 
the  breaks  and  passes  of  the  Rocky  Mountains, 
to  temper  the  chill  breath  of  the  frozen  North. 
There  is  no  mystery  about  these  Chinook  winds  ; 
they  come  from  sleeping  southern  seas  where 
perpetual  summer  reigns  ;  no  wonder  before 
their  breath  the  snow  melts  like  magic.  No 
wonder  the  Red  man,  in  this  quarter  of  the 
Great  Lone  Land,  regards  them  with  a  super- 
stitious awe.  But  it  is  only  because  their  influ- 
ence possibly  kept  Marie  St.  Denis'  complexion 
— which  was  as  pure  and  velvety  as  the  skin 
of  a  peach — from  withering,  that  these  Chinook 
winds  are  mentioned  at  all. 

She  leant  against  the  doorway  of  the  long, 
rambling  log  house  with  its  sod  roof,  orna- 


2  Sinners  Swain. 

mented  by  innumerable  elk  antlers,  and  watched 
her  father  as  he  converted  a  wand  of  willow 
into  a  hoop,  on  which  he  meant  to  stretch  the 
skin  of  a  beaver.  But  before  we  describe  the 
daughter — an  excusable  tendency — it  would  be 
as  well  to  say  a  few  words  about  the  father — age 
before  beauty  is  only  justice.  He  was  a  wid- 
ower, middle-aged,  of  good  physique,  and  with 
a  pleasing  expression  on  his  face ;  his  long  hair 
was,  perhaps,  prematurely  grey,  and  his  skin 
was  tanned  by  the  sun  and  wind  until  it  was 
brown  as  a  berry.  His  figure  was  not  an  un- 
picturesque  one,  suggesting,  as  it  did,  that  of 
the  old  French  trapper  or  voyager.  He  wore 
an  unplucked  beaver  cap,  a  buckskin  shirt  flow- 
ered and  fringed,  and  a  pair  of  high-heeled 
cowboy  boots  of  the  orthodox  pattern.  He  was 
a  typical  old-timer  ;  he  was  hunter,  trapper, 
and  rancher.  In  fact,  like  most  men  in  that 
country  where  a  picturesque  past  is  fast  vanish- 
ing, he  was  anything  that  would  enable  him  to 
earn  a  few  dollars,  and  here,  perhaps,  lay  the 
mischief.  For,  alas  !  these  were  the  days  of 
Prohibition  (only  in  '92  it  ceased  to  exist)  in  the 
Territories,  and  rumor  had  it  that  Gabriel  St. 
Denis  was  not  above  running  a  cargo  of  liquor 
from  across  the  lines  into  Canada  on  an  odd 
occasion.  It  was  a  paying  if  a  wrong  thing  to 
do  :  besides,  there  was  an  indisputable  senti- 
ment amongst  many  that  there  was  no  disgrace 
in  so  doing  ;  indeed,  Gabriel  was  continually 
telling  himself  that  what  might  be  a  crime  need 
not  necessarily  be  a  sin.  The  anti-Prohibition- 
ists said  that  the  laws  prohibiting  liquor  in  the 
country  were  made  for  a  time  when  there  was 
ten  Indians  to  every  white  man  ;  but  now  that 
state  of  affairs  was  reversed.  Why,  they  said, 
should  the  white  population  be  saddled  with  a 
law  that  was  meant  for  Indians,  who  were  now 
in  a  minority  ?  Gabriel  did  not  smuggle  liquor 


tlbe  <3frl  an&  tbe  Smuggler.         3 

for  Indians,  nor  yet  retail  it.  Neither  did  he  in- 
troduce into  Her  Majesty's  Dominion  what  was 
either  felicitously  termed  "  forty-rod,"  "  coffin- 
varnish,"  or  "  tangle-foot,"  but  sound,  whole- 
some "  rye  "  whiskey.  The  country  was  cry- 
ing out  against  the  abuses  that  the  law  engen- 
dered ;  the  Mounted  Police,  and  the  very  judges 
of  the  land,  found  it  difficult  to  reconcile  their 
real  sentiments  regarding  Prohibition,  and  what 
was  to  them  their  evident  straight  course  of 
duty.  It  was  wonderful,  however,  how  elastic 
the  interpretation  of  the  law  had  become — gutta- 
percha  or  india-rubber  was  nowhere  compared 
to  it.  There  is  a  case  on  record  when  the  judge 
on  the  bench,  when  trying  a  whiskey-smuggling 
case,  said  :  "  I  have  known  the  accused  for  a 
very  long  time  now,  and  he  is  a  very  decent  fel- 
low. He  is  not  responsible  for  what  his  ser- 
vants do  ;  therefore  I  dismiss  the  case,"  or 
words  to  that  effect.  Then  there  was  an  ad- 
journment for  refreshments — of  a  prohibited 
nature — in  which  all  parties  interested  partici- 
pated, the  judge,  the  accused,  and  the  Mounted 
Police  themselves.  They  were  all  jolly  good 
fellows,  especially  the  accused.  But  let  us  get 
back  to  an  infinitely  more  interesting  subject — 
the  girl. 

Marie,  as  has  been  said,  was  watching  her 
father  as  he  tied  the  ends  of  the  long  willow 
wand  together.  The  house  was  situated  just  on 
the  edge  of  a  thick  clump  of  cotton-wood  trees, 
and  just  where  the  coullee  ran  out  into  the 
prairie.  It  was  well  sheltered  from  the  north, 
east,  and  west  winds.  A  creek  flowed  feebly 
past,  and  there  was  a  large  corral  and  garden 
on  either  side.  It  was,  altogether,  a  snug  and 
beautiful  little  spot.  One  could  appreciate  such 
a  haven  when  the  blizzards  were  raging,  or 
when,  in  the  deathly  stillness  of  the  long  winter 
nights,  the  thermometer  registered  from  ro°to  30° 


4  Sinners  Gwafn. 

below  zero.  When  the  snow-obliterated  creek 
was  a  solid-channel  of  ice,  and  when  the  intense 
coldness  was  a  deadly,  palpable  thing — a  thing 
that  caught  one's  breath  and  froze  it  as  it  issued 
from  the  lips. 

Upon  the  girl's  face  there  was  a  strangely  un- 
easy look,  while  her  eyes  seemed  to  follow  the 
course  of  Many  Berries  Creek  as,  fringed  and 
marked  with  a  straggling  growth  of  trees,  it  zig- 
zagged and  wandered  away  over  the  far-stretch- 
ing and  sun-dried  prairie,  until  it  was  lost  in 
the  misty  and  uncertain  distance.  Then  her 
eyes  rested  on  the  three  peaks  of  the  Sweet 
Grass  Hills  that  loomed  up  from  their  opaline 
setting  like  volcanic  islands  surrounded  by  a 
vaporous,  shipless  sea;  and,  figuratively,  in 
this  wild  region  they  were  islands,  for  between 
Gabriel  St.  Denis'  house  (only  a  year  or  two 
ago)  and  them  there  was  no  human  life,  only, 
perhaps,  a  small  band  of  wandering  Blood, 
Sioux  or  Piegan  Indians  on  the  hunt,  and  the 
animal  life  they  hunted. 

She  was  a  truly  remarkable  looking  girl  this 
daughter  of  Gabriel's,  for  there  never  were  two 
people  who  could  agree  as  to  the  color  of  her 
eyes  or  hair.  Some  said  her  eyes  were  hazel, 
some  said  blue,  and  some  said  chestnut.  The 
truth  was,  they  seemed  to  change  color  with 
every  mood  that  showed  on  her  mobile  face. 
There  was  always  a  limpid  depth  in  them, 
which,  with  the  fresh  color  of  her  face,  and  her 
red  lips,  indicated  a  healthful,  buoyant  nature. 
Her  hair  was,  indeed,  of  that  color  which 
Georgione  and  Titian  gave  to  their  Venetian 
women ;  "  brown  in  the  shade,  golden  in  the 
sun."  Her  figure  was  finely  moulded,  and,  per- 
haps, the  dead  plainness  and  flowing  lines  of 
her  neat  dress  only  showed  it  to  a  better  advan- 
tage. Her  shapely,  proud  head  was  well  poised 
upon  that  beautifully  rounded  neck  which  sculpt- 


£be  <5frl  anfc  tbe  Smuggler.          5 

orslove  to  create — for,  alas,  it  is  so  seldom  found. 
But  she  was,  perhaps,  a  girl  no  longer,  for  she 
stood  on  the  mystic  threshold  of  womanhood, 
and  there  was  that  inscrutable  look  in  her  eyes 
as  of  one  who  listens.  From  her  small  hands 
and  feet,  to  her  dimpled,  resolute  chin  and  low, 
broad  forehead,  there  was  not  one  tame  feature 
in  her  face.  Had  she  lived  in  London,  or  Paris, 
or  any  other  great  city,  artists  would  have  dis- 
covered her,  have  made  her  famous,  and  wor- 
shipped her ;  and  women  would  have  paid  her 
truer  homage  still,  for  they  would  have  said  all 
manner  of  false  and  spiteful  things  regard- 
ing her,  and  have  heartily  hated  her.  But 
she  was  only  "old  St.  Denis'  daughter," 
who  lived  like  a  recluse  some  twenty  miles 
distant  from  his  nearest  neighbor  on  the  prairie 
of  the  Canadian  North- West.  She  was  an  a- 
nomaly :  like  a  golden  room  in  a  wooden  house. 
She  ought  to  have  been  without  a  heartache 
(how  much  after  all  does  a  man  know  about 
that  complex  thing  a  woman's  heart  ? )  ;  but,  as 
it  was,  the  girl  dreamed  her  dreams,  and  woye 
the  romances  of  a  coming  womanhood  amid 
what  seemed  such  uncongenial  surroundings 
for  a  bright  young  life.  Perhaps,  that  subtle 
spirit  of  solitude  which  settles  down  over  that 
great  lone  prairie  land  with  the  blood-red  sun- 
sets, had  tinged  her  with  something  of  that  pen- 
siveness  which  occasionally  seemed  to  haunt 
her  face. 

And  now  Gabriel  spoke,  in  a  somewhat  em- 
barrassed manner  it  must  be  confessed  ;  he  did 
not  look  up  at  the  pretty  picture  before  him, 
but  wound  another  piece  of  string  round  the 
joint  of  the  hoop — a  quite  unnecessary  thing  to 
do — with  an  apparent  concentration  of  purpose 
that  was  utterly  wasted. 

"  Oh,  by  the  way,  little  un',  I  was  nigh  for- 
gettin'  to  tell  ye,  that  I'll  be  gwinawayfora 


6  Sinners  tlwain» 

week  or  ten  days  to  Benton  to  git  some  nec- 
ess'ries  I  can't  git  y'ere.  I  s'pose,  now,  ye  won't 
mind  bein'  left  alone  for  thet  time?  You've 
got  old  Jeannette,  you  know,  and  I'll  fetch  you 
a  present  from  Benton — some  of  these  yere 
books  ye  can't  git  on  this  side  without  givin' 
ever  so  much  for " 

"  Oh,  Dad'! " 

It  was  almost  like  the  cry  of  a  wounded  ani- 
mal ;  but  still  she  did  not  withdraw  her  eyes 
from  the  vague,  blue  line  of  the  uneven  horizon  : 
only,  all  at  once,  the  light  had  gone  out  of 
them,  and  there  was  an  apprehensive  piteous 
look  there  instead.  She  had  clasped  her  hands 
together  in  front  of  her  involuntarily,  and  then, 
as  if  ashamed  at  having  been  betrayed  even  into 
this  momentary  expression  of  feeling,  she 
caught  at  and  plucked  nervously  the  leaves  of 
some  creeping  plant  that  clambered  up  the  door- 
way of  the  house.  It  could  be  easily  seen  that 
she  felt  ashamed  and  humiliated  by  what  she 
had  to  say  to  her  father.  There  was  a  mo- 
mentary twitching  of  her  lips,  then  a  droop 
about  the  corners  of  her  mouth ;  but  she  recov- 
ered herself  in  another  minute  with  a  visible  ef- 
fort, and  continued — 

"  Dad,  didn't  you  tell  me  that  you  would  not 
go  across  there  any  more  ?  Cannot  we  live 
without  your  having  to  go  there  ?  Some  day 
the  Mounted  Police  will  be  running  across  you 
as  you  come  back,  and  they  will  take  your 
horses  and  wagons,  and  will  fine  you  besides 
ever  so  many  hundreds  of  dollars,  and  then 
what  will  you  have  gained  in  the  end  ?  Oh, 
Dad,"  and  there  was  a  world  of  entreaty  and 
self-deprecation  in  that  soft  voice  of  hers,  "  it  is 
not  for  me  to  preach  to  you,  but  if  you  only 
knew  how  miserable  this  thing  makes  me  I 
don't  think  you  would  do  it.  Besides,  how  do 
you  think— though  I  don't  care  so  much  about 


^Tbe  ®frl  anD  tbc  Smngslet.          7 

myself  after  all— I  can  go  into  Medicine  Hat, 
and  hold  up  my  head,  knowing  that  everybody 
is  pointing  to  me  and  saying,  '  There  goes  Ma- 
rie St.  Denis,  the '."  But  she  only  bit  her 

lips  and  left  unfinished  what  she  had  be- 
gun. 

"  There's  hardly  a  soul  in  the  '  Hat,'  barring 
the  parsons,"  interrupted  Gabriel,  hotly,  but 
somewhat  shamefacedly,  it  must  be  confessed, 
and,  without  lifting  his  head,  "  thinks  any  the 
worse  of  a  man  for  bein'  in  th'  whiskey  bizness. 
No  one  thinks  anythin'  about  it ;  and  the  jedges 
ain't  so  very  hard  upon  a  man  for  smugglin' 
now.  I  believe  if  there  was  license  in  the  coun- 
try there'd  be  less  hypocrisy  an'  hard  drinkin' — 
it's  a  foolish  law — an  injuist  law." 

"  But  it's  the  law,"  she  persisted,  "  and  I  can't 
bear  to  see  you  break  it.  I  am  sure  we  can 
manage  to  live  without  you  doing  this  thing. 
My  wants  are  not  many,  and  they  can  be  made 
fewer.  You  need  not  take  me  into  Medicine 
Hat  this  winter ;  and  I  have  lots  of  good  clothes. 
You  know  I  can  make  lots  of  money  if  you  will 
letjme.  Look  at  all  those  moccasins  I  have  made, 
and  sewed  with  silk  and  beadwork,  and  those 
beaver  caps  and  mitts.  There  are  shops  in 
town  would  only  be  too  glad  to  get  them,  and 
I  could  work  lots  more.  I  am  sure  there  is  no 
necessity  for  you  to  run  any  risks  for  my  sake." 

And  now  there  was  a  pleading,  wistful  look 
in  her  eyes  as  she  spoke  ;  there  was  entreaty  in 
every  delicate  feature  of  her  face  ;  there  was  a 
suppressed  pathos  in  her  soft  and  modulated 
voice. 

As  her  name  denoted,  she  was  of  French 
descent  on  her  father's  side,  but  her  mother  had 
been  a  Scots-woman.  Perhaps  it  was  to  this 
fact  that  the  girl  owed  somewhat  of  her  com- 
plex nature,  that  quick,  sympathetic  turn  of 
mind  :  the  lively  imagination  and  light-hearted- 


8  Sinners  Gwafn. 

ness  of  the  French,  alongside  the  deep-rooted 
religious  instincts  and  stable,  thoughtful  nature 
of  the  Scotch.  Though  Gabriel  could  talk 
French — and  Marie,  too,  for  the  matter  of  that 
— there  was  nothing  in  their  speech  that  would 
have  led  a  stranger  to  suppose  so.  Gabriel's 
father,  when  the  former  was  a  mere  child,  had 
left  the  French  settlements  and  pushed  out 
West,  and  circumstances  having  thrown  the  son 
nearly  all  his  life  amongst  the  English-speak- 
ing population,  he  had  contracted  that  nonde- 
scrip  form  of  speech  peculiar  to  the  Western 
man  and  the  frontiersman. 

Gabriel  surreptitiously  unloosed  the  double 
string  that  converted  the  willow  into  a  hoop, 
and  made  a  show  of  being  annoyed  as  the  ends 
flew  asunder.  That  he  was  uneasy,  and  fight- 
ing out  a  battle  within  himself,  there  could  be 
little  doubt.  He  nerved  himself,  however,  and 
laughed  in  a  hard,  brusque  way,  very  unlike  his 
real  self,  as  he  replied — 

" '  Ough  !  Ough  ! '  as  the  Niche  says,  and 
what  nonsense  is  it  talking  about  now,  'bout 
working  moccasin,  fur  caps,  and  mitts,  just  as  if 
it  were  a  squaw  or  a  breed,  and  hevin'  to  sell 
them,  too.  Now,  look  'e  y'ere,  Marie.  I  don't 
'xactly  know  what  I've  bin  doin'  to  put  sich 
notions  in  yere  head  ;  I'm  sure  you's  allus  had 
all  the  money  you's  iver  wanted  to.  In  fact,  I 
kin  hardly  iver  git  ye  to  tek  any.  Why,  my 
child,  instead  of  be  in'  a  beggar,  as  ye  seem  to 
think,  I've  a  matter  of  ten  thousan'  dollars  laid 
by,  an'  only  want  to  mek  a]  little  more  so's  to 
help  us  leave  this  played-out  country — for  since 
the  buffalo's  gone  I've  no  more  use  for  it — an" 
then  we'll  strike  the  trail  an'  go  'way  down 
south  into  Uncle  Sam's  country,  and  tek  some 
nice  farm  where  ye'll  hev  lots  o'  comp'ny  and 
won't  be  boxed  up  yere  as  ye're  now.  I've  bin 
thinkin*  of  late  it's  hardly  the  spryest  kin'  o'  life 
for  a  young  gal.  " 


Gbe  <5irl  and  tbe  Smuggler.          9 

Poor  man,  it  had  hardly  dawned  upon  him  that 
she  was  now  no  longer  a  "  young  gal. "  He 
loved  her  with  all  the  silent  and  conserved 
force  of  an  undemonstrative  nature,  and,  per- 
haps, love  is  slow  to  observe  change.  And 
then,  her  mother  having  died  when  she  was  but 
a  child,  and  Gabriel  having  wisely  sent  her  to 
the  convent  at  Prince  Albert,  on  the  Saskatche- 
wan, to  be  educated,  he  had,  doubtless,  seen 
too  little  of  her.  He  was  a  good-hearted  man, 
and  considering  the  nomadic,  frontier  life  he 
had  led  as  trapper  and  buffalo  hunter  in  the  far 
West,  since  he  had  left  his  old  home  in  Ontario, 
and  since  the  death  of  his  wife,  was  doubtless 
an  exemplary  man  as  compared  with  most  of 
his  kind.  When  he  had  taken  his  daughter 
from  the  convent  of  Prince  Albert  he  had 
honestly  intended  to  do  his  duty  by  his  child, 
and  so  he  had,  according  to  his  own  lights. 
He  had  taken  her  some  forty  miles  south  of  the 
CanadianPacific  Railway,  to  the  south-western 
slope  of  the  Cypress  Hills,  into  this  lonely  but 
beautiful  country,  and  started  a  ranche.  But  his 
progress  in  acquiring  what  his  heart  was  set 
upon,  a  sufficient  sum  of  money  to  take  up  a 
good  improved  farm  in  one  of  the  settled  and 
sunny  Southern  States,  was  slow  ;  and  then  the 
temptation  to  make  easily  and  quickly  presented 
itself.  It  was  by  running  cargoes  of  liquor  into 
Canada  from  across  the  lines.  In  other  words, 
by  smuggling.  For  a  long  time  he  resisted  the 
temptation ;  but  when  he  found  how  public 
sentiment  ran,  and  that  the  law  prohibiting 
liquor  was  looked  upon  by  many  as  an  iniqui- 
tous one,  he  regarded  the  project  with  less  dis- 
favor. "  He  who  doubts  is  doomed "  may 
apply  to  various  phases  of  moral  philosophy. 
"  It  is  all  for  Marie,"  he  said  to  himself ;  rather 
illogically,  it  must  be  confessed,  and  to  concili- 
ate his  by  no  means  dormant  moral  sense. 


io  Sinners  Gtoatn. 

And  surely  the  girl  was  too  young  to  associate 
any  very  serious  breach  of  morality  with  such 
proceedings.  His  first  few  ventures  were  suc- 
cessful, and  paid  him  well.  He  began  to  think, 
with  many  in  the  North- West,  that  thus  to  con- 
travene the  law  was  neither  a  sin  nor  a  crime. 
Then,  later  on,  it  became  not  so  much  a  matter 
of  conscience  with  him  as  his  daughter's  peace 
of  mind  ;  for,  of  course,  he  could  not  expect  to 
keep  such  a  traffic  concealed  from  her  ;  but  up 
till  now  she  had  not  seemed  to  take  it  so  very 
seriously.  He  had  acquired  what  to  many  in 
that  country  was  wealth,  but  he  wanted  just 
another  five  or  six  hundred  dollars  and  then  he 
would  quit  the  trade,  and  "strike  the  trail,"  as 
he  termed  it.  There  was  no  other  woman 
within  twenty  miles  of  them  save  the  old 
French  half-breed,  Jeannette,  who  assisted  in 
the  household  duties,  and,  truly,  she  was  a 
never-failing  source  of  entertainment.  For  in 
the  long  winter  nights  when  King  Frost  held 
everything  in  his  deadly  grip  outside,  and  the 
stove  hummed  with  a  cheery  sound,  many  were 
the  wonderful  legends  and  tales  told  of  the  days 
when  the  old  French  voyagers  penetrated  far 
into  the  heart  of  the  great  Unknown  with 
their  canoes;  of  the  battles  with  the  Indians; 
of  the  solemn  councils  ;  of  the  immense  herds 
of  buffalo  that  stretched  from  horizon  to  hori- 
zon, and  a  hundred  picturesque  features  of  the 
Great  Lone  Land  now  fast  passing  away. 
Indeed,  Marie  was  an  exemplary  daughter,  and 
never  once  complained  of  dulness.  The  height 
of  her  dissipation  was  occasionally  accompany- 
ing her  father  into  Medicine  Hat  or  "  The 
Hat,"  as  this  remarkable  example  in  nomen- 
clature was  termed,  and  to  skate  with  the  little 
crowd  on  the  Saskatchewan  of  an  afternoon,  or 
to  have  a  glimpse  of  those  wonderful  cars,  which 
stopped  there  for  half  an  hour,  on  that  great 


Gbe  <3irl  anD  tbe  Smuggler.         H 

worlds  highway,  the  Canadian  Pacific  Railway, 
with  their  wonderfully  assorted  loads  of  human 
beings.  Her  wants  were  few  and  simple  ;  she 
was  content  when  she  saw  her  father  attending 
to  his  more  legitimate  duties,  and  looking  happy 
and  contented. 

Perhaps  Gabriel  was  troubled  with  a  con- 
sciousness that  he  had  not  altogether  done  his 
duty  by  her.  Anyhow,  he  had  never  heard  her 
express  herself  so  strongly  as  she  did  now. 

"  Why,  Marie,"  he  ventured  at  length,  and 
without  looking  up,  "  what  has  made  ye  become 
so  perticklar  all  of  a  suddin  ?  I  remimbers  the 
time  when  ye  used  to  laugh  when  ye  he'rd  of 
the  way  we'd  give  the  p'lice  the  slip."  Then  he 
continued  in  a  somewhat  lower  tone,  and  not 
without  a  certain  twinkle  in  his  eye,  "And 
p'rhaps  some  'o  th'  p'lice  themsel's  'er  not  so 
very  perticklar  as  to  whether  they  catch  us  or 
not — surely  that  sergeant,  who  comes  over 
now  an'  agen  from  Willow  Creek,  has  not  bin 
putin'  eny  nonsense  into  yer  head  ?  " 

To  do  the  man  justice,  as  has  been  said,  he 
only  looked  upon  her  as  a  child,  and  did  not 
dream  for  an  instant  that  what  he  said  would 
have  the  slightest  significance  for  her.  He  was 
tying  the  end  of  the  hoop  together  again,  and 
did  not  see  her  face  as  he  spoke.  She  had 
started  slightly,  and,  indeed,  her  face  had  paled 
for  an  instant  before  the  warm  blood  had 
mounted  into  it.  Her  lips  had  closed  on  each 
other,  and  her  eyes  had  looked  fixedly  away 
down  the  creek  bottom  as  if  they  were  watch- 
ing the  flight  of  a  covey  of  prairie  chickens.  At 
length  she  spoke. 

"  I  hardly  understand  you,  dad,  when  you  talk 
about  someone  puttin  nonsense  into  my  head. 
You  forget  the  sergeant  is  a  gentleman,  and  it 
was  not  difficult  to  see  that  last  time  he  was 
here  he  meant  well  by  you,  for,  you  remember, 


i2  Sinners 

he  mentioned,  as  if  by  accident,  something 
about  that  extra  patrol  along  the  boundary  line 
which  they  had  begun.  It  wasn't  difficult  to 
see  he  felt  miserably  ill  at  ease  lest  we  should 
guess  the  motives  that  led  him  to  speak  of  it. 
For,  of  course,  he  meant  it  as  a  warning  to  you, 
which  few  men  would  have  done,  otherwise  he 
would  have  told  you  in  a  very  different  fashion. 
As  for  the  corruption — there  is  only  one  name 
for  it — you  hint  at,  I  am  sure  he  is  above  any- 
thing like  that." 

And  now  that  maidenly  spirit  of  reserve,  as 
she  spoke,  had  entirely  left  her ;  she  held  her 
head  almost  proudly,  and  there  was  a  fuller 
touch  of  color  in  her  cheek.  There  was  that 
air  of  nobility  about  her  that  glorifies  a  beauti- 
ful woman  when  she  is  championing  the  ab- 
sent. Not  that  the  absent  was  anything  to  her : 
for  loyalty  in  a  noble-minded  woman  is  a  com- 
prehensive and  catholic  virtue. 

"  Yes,  Marie,"  said  Gabriel,  who  still  did  not 
seem  to  notice  her  aroused  interest,  "  I  dropped 
as  to  how  'e  meant  it.  He's  a  chap  as'll  do  his 
duty,  an'  I  gives  him  credit  for  thet  same,  and 
I'll  give  him  a  wide  berth.  But  there's  Jean- 
nette.  Now  I'se  jist  agoin' to  run  th'  horses 
into  th'  c'ral,  for  it'll  soon  be  dark.  I  hope  it 
won't  snow  afore  I  git  back,  but  it's  gettin'  late 
in  the  Fall.  I  must  start  to-morrow,  honey.  I 
guess  I'll  be  back  in  less'n  ten  days'  time.  I'll 
just  give  ye  a  call  on  my  way  back  to  the  Hat 
and  see  thet  ye 're  all  snug.  The  p'lice  were 
yere  on  Monday,  so  I  don't  s'pose  they'll  be 
back  for  'nother  fortnight,  an'  by  thet  time  I'll 
be  yere  agen.  Come,  Marie,"  and,  suddenly 
throwing  away  the  hoop,  he  put  his  arm  round 
her  and  drew  her  into  the  house.  Then  he  re- 
appeared with  his  bridle  over  his  arm  to  fetch 
the  horses  up.  He  had  been  anxious  to  put  an 
end  to  the  conversation  ;  it  was  a  much  more 


Sbe  <5trl  an£>  tbe  Smuggler.        13 

unpleasant  one  for  him  than  he  had  cared  to 
admit. 

And  now  the  profound  and  solemn  stillness 
that  broods  over  that  vast  and  lonely  rolling 
prairie  seemed  to  deepen.  The  prairie  chickens 
and  other  birds  had  drunk  at  the  feebly  flowing 
creek,  and  had  gone  back  to  the  sheltering  edge 
of  the  scrub  for  the  night.  The  great  cinnamon 
bear  which  at  this  season  of  the  year  leaves  the 
sheltering  pine  forests,  and  wanders  down  the 
coullee  and  creek  bottoms  to  fossick  out  roots, 
and  feast  on  the  luscious  wild  berries,  rose  from 
his  lair  amid  the  thick,  long  grass  and  thicker 
undergrowth,  and  came  boldly  out  on  to  the 
bare  hillside  to  have  a  look  around.  A  keen 
black  frost  set  in  ;  one  could  hear  the  crackle  of 
the  growing  covering  of  ice  on  the  beaver  dam, 
and  the  more  startling  rending  of  the  dead  cot- 
ton-wood trees  up  the  coullee  as  Jack  Frost 
squeezed  them  in  his  icy  grip.  The  stars 
gleamed  out  more  sharply  and  clearly  in  the 
dusk  of  the  heavens,  and  towards  the  Arctic 
circle  the  Aurora-Borealis,  that  "  Dance  of  the 
Spirits  "  as  the  Indians  call  it,  suddenly  burst 
into  life  and  light,  its  quivering  shafts  of  pearly 
and  silvery  fire  darting  from  one  side  to  another, 
crossing  and  recrossing:  creating  a  living  halo 
and  glory  around  the  throne  of  the  great  Ice- 
King.  Now  the  log  house  and  other  buildings 
showed  black  as  jet  against  it.  From  the  little 
uncurtained  windows  poured  mellow  streams  of 
light  into  the  cold,  crisp  air,  and  showed  right 
cheerily  indeed,  It  was  a  cozy  and  pretty  pic- 
ture truly,  this  tiny  speck  of  civilization  in  the 
lonely  wilderness,  when  these  unwinking  eyes 
of  fire  looked  out  boldly  into  the  gloom,  as  if 
rejoicing  over  the  fuller  life  within. 


CHAPTER  II. 
A     NORTH-WEST    MOUNTED    POLICE    PARTY. 

TEN  days  after  the  conversation  narrated  in 
the  preceding  chapter,  and  about  a  couple  of 
miles  or  so  above  St.  Denis'  ranche,  up  the  coul- 
lee,  four  men  are  grouped  together  under  a  pe- 
culiarly formed  water-worn  cliff  of  yellow  sand- 
stone. They  are  seated  in  what  was  once  the 
bed  of  the  creek.  But  that  prince  of  engineers, 
the  beaver,  had  constructed  a  large  dam  just 
above  them,  and  diverted  the  course  of  the 
stream.  In  Canada,  beavers  sometimes  convert 
meadows  into  lakes,  swamp  homesteads,  change 
the  course  of  all-important  creeks,  and  it  is  no 
uncommon  sight  to  see  a  bridge  left  high  and 
dry,  like  some  stranded  leviathan,  rendered 
quite  unnecessary  by  these  arch  practical  jokers. 

The  most  important  individual  in  the  party 
referred  to,  not  only  in  his  own  eyes,  but  by 
virtue  of  rank,  was  a  commissioned  officer  of 
Mounted  Police.  His  eyes  were  dark,  and  his 
whole  facial  expression  might  be  summed  up  in 
three  words — red,  round,  and  vulgar.  Indeed, 
he  enjoyed  the  sobriquet  of  "  Pudding-face 
Jamie,"  from  the  supposed  resemblance  of  the 
facial  features  aforesaid  to  that  popular  but 
homely  article  of  diet.  He  had  at  one  time 
been  a  private  holding  some  subordinate  "  staff 
job  "  in  the  force,  but,  having  the  necessary  in- 
fluence at  his  back,  had  secured  a  commission. 
Those  of  his  old  chums  in  the  force,  who  had 
expected  that  when  Jamie  became  an  officer  he 
would  at  least  have  some  consideration  for  his 
old  comrades,  were  grievously  disappointed  ; 


B  ^oimtefc  police  partg.          15 

for,  true  to  the  old  adage  regarding  the  putting 
of  a  beggar  on  horseback,  when  he  tasted 
power  he  rode  rough-shod  over  the  unfortunates 
under  him.  Fortunately,  most  of  his  brother 
officers  (the  exception  being  those  drawn  from 
his  own  substratum  of  society)  were  gentlemen 
by  birth  and  education,  splendid,  all-round, 
good-hearted  fellows  as  one  could  wish  to  meet, 
so  they,  providentially,  kept  such  characters  as 
Jamie  in  check,  and  saved  many  a  gently-nur- 
tured youth  from  a  martyrdom  of  petty  but 
galling  annoyances.  For  in  the  Mounted  Police 
a  few  years  ago,  a  very  large  percentage  of  the 
men  belonging  to  the  rank  and  file  were  gentle- 
men. Of  course  Jamie  resented  the  presence  of 
gentlemen  :  they  offered  too  great  a  contrast  to 
his  own  condition — a  condition  which  not  even 
a  gold  crown  on  the  collar  of  his  serge,  and 
goodness  knows  how  many  yards  of  gold  lace 
besides,  could  ever  ameliorate.  This  was  where 
the  shoe  pinched  with  Jamie.  No  wonder  that 
the  milk  of  human  kindness  was  somewhat 
soured  in  his  composition.  The  three  others 
present  were  a  police  sergeant,  a  private,  and  a 
French  quarter-breed  scout  named  Pierre,  a 
short,  stout,  dark-eyed  and  pleasant  looking  in- 
dividual upon  the  whole.  He  had  a  weakness 
for  saying  what  were  meant  to  be  funny  things, 
while  at  the  same  time  his  face  bore  a  look  of 
preternatural  gravity.  But  just  then  the  fact 
that  Jamie  had  informed  him  that  he  would 
recommend  the  Commissioner  to  discharge  him 
on  the  completion  of  the  trip,  had  somewhat 
damped  Pierre's  natural  cheerfulness.  The 
sergeant  was  a  smart,  dark,  handsome  fel- 
low, and  like  many  more  in  his  position, 
seemed  born  for  better  things.  Even  now  al- 
though his  face  was  unshaven,  although  the  stump 
of  an  old  briar  pipe  protruded  from  between  his 
lips,  and  his  seedy  old  buffalo  coat  was  buttoned 


16  Sinners  {Twain. 

up  to  his  chin,  one  could  see  at  a  glance  that 
Harry  Yorke  was  a  gentleman.  The  fourth 
man  of  the  party  seemed  rather  a  young  individ- 
ual to  be  a  policeman.  He  was  the  son  of  a 
younger  son — some  army  officer  with  a  large 
family  and  limited  means  who  was  only  too 
glad  to  get  one  of  his  boys  disposed  of,  even  if 
it  were  in  the  ranks  of  the  North-West  Mounted 
Police  ;  for  then  the  youth  would  be  self-sup- 
porting and  would  give  no  further  trouble.  As 
it  was,  Dick  Townley,  like  many  more  young 
men  in  a  like  position,  found  the  life  was  not  ex- 
actly a  bed  of  roses — when,  for  instance,  an 
officer  like  Jamie  ordered  him  while  in  the  post 
to  gather  bones  in  a  gunny-sack,  round  the 
Barrack-Square,  which  had  been  deposited  there 
by  other  people's  dogs,  or  to  remove  the  ref- 
use from  behind  the  officers'  quarters,  in 
close  proximity  to  an  Indian  who  was  orna- 
mented with  a  ball  and  chain  attached  to  one 
leg.  Doubtless,  so  far  as  the  Indian  was  con- 
cerned, the  punishment  was  not  undeserved, 
for  he  had,  probably,  got  six  months  for  appro- 
priating another  Indian's  squaw,  and  breaking 
his  rival's  head  when  politely  remonstrated, 
with.  As  for  the  unfortunate  private — well, 
somebody  had  to  do  the  scavenger's  work.  It 
was  not,  perhaps,  then  to  be  wondered  at  that 
his  speech  partook  of  a  certain  cynical  and  sar- 
castic tone  when  the  conversation  referred  to 
his  superior  officer.  Indeed,  it  might  be  almost 
said  to  savour  of  his  disloyalty  ;  but  then,  in  the 
often  circumscribed  and  lonely  life  of  the 
trooper,  there  were  things  said,  done,  and  toler- 
ated, that  would  not  have  been  dreamt  of  under 
different  conditions.  In  the  ranks  of  the 
Mounted  Police,  partly  on  account  of  that  subtle 
affinity  of  class,  and  conscious  necessity  of  mutual 
help  and  encouragement  in  a  life  which  is  to  a 
certain  extent  one  of  exile,  there  was  a  healthful 


B  dfcountefc  Police  parts.          17 

spirit  of  camaraderie,  the  like  of  which,  perhaps 
does  not  exist  in  any  other  force  of  the  kind  in  the 
world.  Between  the  non-commissioned  officers 
and  privates  there  was  a  mutual  understanding 
and  good  feeling,  that  made  the  duties  of  the 
former  comparatively  easy  and  pleasant.  Per- 
haps it  was  this  spirit  that  made  the  sergeant 
tolerant  and  caused  him  to  take  no  notice  of 
his  junior's  many  colloquial  divergencies. 

There  were  six  saddle  and  pack  horses,  hard 
by,  in  a  little  clump  of  bushes.  Only  a  few 
bleached  or  blackened  leaves  clung  in  a  forlorn 
fashion,  like  tattered  signals  of  distress,  to 
the  great  gaunt  trees  and  the  dense  under- 
growth. On  three  sides  they  were  so  hemmed 
in  by  trees  that  they  could  hardly  see  the  oppo- 
site bank  of  the  coullee,  although,  straight 
across,  it  could  hardly  be  more  than  a  couple  of 
hundred  yards  or  so.  It  was  bitterly  cold,  and 
the  party  sat  moodily,  muffled  up  in  their  buffalo 
coats  ;  while  their  saddles  and  gear  were  lying 
about.  They  had  made  a  fire,  over  which  they 
hung,  and  its  effect  was  cheerful  enough  just 
then  despite  the  dispiriting  social  atmosphere. 

The  wood  they  burned  was  old,  and  of  such  a 
nature  that  the  little  smoke  from  it  could  hardly 
attract  attention.  And  now  the  sky  had  become 
overcast,  and  they  knew  that  high  over  head,  up 
on  the  "  bench  "  or  plateau,  a  light  breeze  had 
sprung  up.  At  last  the  scout  spoke,  the  volatile 
little  man  could  contain  himself  no  longer,  even 
although  he  had  just  as  good  as  "  got  the  sack." 

"  Parbleu  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  It  is  not  sur- 
prised I  should  be  if  we  were  going  to  have  just 
a  leetle  snow-storm.  Generally  it  is  we  have 
one  before  this  time  of  the  year.  A-ha,  man 
cher  Richard,  and  how  it  is  you  will  love  the 
entertainment  of  a  snow  blanket  ?  " 

"  Why,  my  well-beloved  Sancho,"  answered 
the  youthful  private  addressed, "  that  is  a  most 


i8  Sinners  (Twain. 

delightful  contingency  to  contemplate.  It  re- 
minds me  of  a  legend  somewhere,  an  Indian 
eda,  a  Grecian  myth,  a  Scandinavian  saga,  or 
something  of  that  sort  " — here  he  glanced  fur- 
tively at  his  superior  officer — "  or  is  it  taken 
from  '  The  Pilgrim's  Progress  '  or  '  Robinson 
Crusoe '  ?  No  matter  ;  but  it  is  about  two  small 
children  who,  persecuted  by  a  wicked  uncle, 
were  lost  in  a  great  wood,  and  the  robins,  and 
moas,  torn-tits  and  dodos  came  and  covered 
them  up  with  leaves.  Now,  Pierre,  I  think  you 
would  make  a  most  beautiful  and  interesting 
babe  all  covered  up  with  leaves,  or  saddle-blan- 
kets, or  supposing  this  cliff  were  suddenly  to 
cave  in — with  rocks." 

"  Eh  !  what  saire  ?  "  exclaimed  the  little 
scout  with  a  merry  twinkle  in  his  eye  at  this 
stage  of  the  extravaganza.  He  had  not  exactly 
followed  it,  but  he  knew  that  the  private  was 
trying  to  make  fun  of  him. 

"  By  the  jumping  Gewhitaker  !  "  broke  in  the 
bearer  of  the  Queen's  commission  who  had  been 
silently  wondering  if  what  the  private  had  been 
talking  about  were  really  some  "  classical  stuff," 
or  nonsense  specially  concocted  to  annoy  him. 
"  I  wish  you  two  fools  would  hold  your  tongues. 
Get  both  of  you  away  up  to  the  bench,  and 
come  back  and  tell  me  what  you  see  there — take 
the  field-glasses  with  you. " 

"  Very  good,  sir,  "  said  the  trooper,  picking 
up  the  glasses  which  Jamie  had  indicated  by 
glancing  one  of  his  bulging  eyes  in  their  direc- 
tion, and  moving  off.  But  the  little  scout  still 
lingered  with  an  inquiring  expression  on  his 
face. 

"  Well,  what  in  the  devil's  name  are  you  wait- 
ing for  now,  eh  ?  "  inquired  Jamie.  "  Sergeant, 
I  call  you  to  witness  this  fellow's  rank  insubor- 
dination." Jamie  was  almost  cheerful  now,  for 
he  never  felt  so  happy  as  when  putting  a  charge 


21  /BbounteO  police  parts.          19 

for  some  breach  of  discipline  against  a  newly- 
made  corporal,  or  badgering  some  willing  but 
not  over  quick-witted  constable. 

"  Please,  saire,  shall  I  my  horse  take  ?  "  in- 
quired the  scout,  with  a  look  of  preternatural 
gravity  on  his  face,  and  as  an  interpretation  of 
his  conduct. 

"  No,  you  fool ;  take  those  drum-stick  legs  of 
yours.  You  grow  stupider  every  day,  Pierre." 

Pierre  smiled  pleasantly  as  he  turned  his 
back,  as  if  he  had  just  been  complimented. 
And  so  he  had — when  he  could  make  Jamie  be- 
lieve that  he  was  growing  stupider. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  pair  were  back  in  camp 
again. 

"  Well  ?  "  inquired  the  Amiable  One  before 
either  of  them  had  time  to  speak. 
"  Have  both  of  you  lost  your  tongues  ?  " 

The  scout,  unseen  to  the  officer,  stuck  his 
into  his  left  cheek  so  that  the  constable  might 
see  it,  and  answered — 

"  There  is  nothing,  saire,  to  be  seen.  But  I 
think  we  will  have  a  snow-storm,  and  it  is 
snowed-in  we  are  liable  to  be,  if  we  remain  here." 

"  And  who  in  the  name  of  all  that's  wonder- 
ful" (only  he  put  it  a  little  more  forcibly) 
"  told  you  that  we  were  going  to  remain  here  ?  " 
asked  Jamie,  grimly  rejoicing  in  the  opportunity 
afforded  of  making  things  lively  generally. 
"  Darn  you,  Pierre !  I  wish  you  would  give  a 
straightforward  answer  to  a  straightforward 
question.  I  don't  want  you  to  make  sugges- 
tions ;  you  are  not  paid  for  that.  It  is  not  nec- 
essary for  you  to  point  out  anything.  Ser- 
geant, you  and  Townley  get  a  rustle  on,  and  sad- 
dle up  the  horses  ;  we'll  make  for  shelter." 

And  now  a  few  flakes  of  snow  began  to  fall, 
undecidedly  and  reluctantly.  Then  they  came 
down  faster  and  faster,  as  if  at  last  they  saw 
there  was  no  help  for  it  and  might  as  well  do  the 


20  Sinners  {Twain. 

business  with  credit  to  themselves  when  they 
were  at  it.  In  a  few  minutes  more,  something 
like  a  blizzard  had  developed  with  all  the  sud- 
denness which  dwellers  in  these  latitudes  have 
at  times  experienced. 

But  before  this  happened  the  sergeant  and  the 
private  had  gone  off  to  fetch  up  the  horses ; 
the  scout  had  picked  up  a  heavy  Mexican  bridle, 
and,  with  a  significant  light  in  his  protruding  eyes 
addressed  the  officer.  The  latter,  when  he  had 
seen  that  the  scout  was  about  to  address  him, 
had  preluded  the  communication  with,  "  Well, 
what  are  you  going  to  interfere  with  now  ?  " 

Slowly,  deliberately,  and  with  evident  unction, 
Pierre  spoke. 

"  Saire,  I  do  not  wish  to  interfere  or  to  point 
out  anything,  but  I  would  respectfully  suggest 
that  the  pair  of  spare  beaver  mitts  belonging  to 
you  and  lying  on  that  burning  log  be  removed. 
Already  they  are  en  partie  consumed — I  hope 
you  will  pardon  me  for  pointing  out " 

He  was  not  allowed  to  finish  the  sentence, 
for  the  officer  sprang  forward  with  an  oath  and 
rescued  the  mitts  from  further  destruction.  To 
do  the  scout  justice,  he  had  not  observed  the 
smouldering  mitts  until  it  was  too  late  to  save 
them.  And  now  Jamie  had  something  tangible 
to  work  upon  to  gratify  his  passion  for  fault- 
finding, and  he  let  loose  on  the  head  of 
the  scout  a  torrent  of  abuse  that  would 
have  done  credit  to  a  gamin  from  the  slums  of 
Whitechapel,  or  a  Queensland  bullock-driver. 
But  Pierre  paid  no  heed,  and  consoled  himself 
with  the  thought  that  a  new  pair  of  mitts  would 
cost  Jamie  at  least  three  dollars,  and  that  would 
go  pretty  near  to  breaking  his  heart. 

And  now  they  were  ready  for  a  start. 

"  Where  to,  sir  ?  "  inquired  the  sergeant. 

"  Why,  to  old  St.  Denis' ,  to  be  sure  !  Where 
else  ?  "  asked  the  officer,  impatiently. 


a  flfcounteD  police  parts.          21 

"  Well,  sir,  it's  only  a  matter  of  ten  miles  if 
we  make  over  to  Willow  Creek  through  Wild- 
cat coullee,  and  we  can  intercept  St.  Denis' 
C:y  just  as  easily  from  there.  If  we  go  to  his 
se  we  may  miss  him  altogether." 

"  No,  I  guess  we  will  go  and  stop  at  old  St. 
Denis'  until  that  gentleman  comes  back,"  said 
the  Amiable  One,  as  Dick  Townley,  the  private, 
in  a  spirit  of  mild  irony,  had  dubbed  him. 

Now,  if  the  sergeant  had  only  exercised  a  lit- 
tle forethought,  and  had  proposed  to  go  to  St. 
Denis'  in  the  first  place,  his  superior  officer 
would  have  promptly  vetoed  it,  and  have  or- 
dered him  to  proceed  somewhere  else.  The 
Scriptures  characterize  such  a  spirit  as  "  stiff- 
neckedness,"  but  in  the  States  they  have  im- 
proved upon  the  expression,  and  call  it "  pure 
cussedness."  Jamie  continued,  after  a  brief 
pause — 

"Besides,  Gabriel's  sure  to  look  in  just  to 
see  how  that  rather  smartish  girl  of  his  is  get- 
ting on,  on  his  way  to  the  Hat ;  and  then  we 
can  nab  him  and  the  liquor  too — savey  ?  " 

The  sergeant  looked  at  his  superior  with  not 
a  little  ill-concealed  disgust  upon  his  face  as  he 
replied — 

"  But  excuse  me,  sir ;  he's  not  likely  to  fetch 
the  liquor  there  ;  and  you  forget  that  there  are 
only  two  women  left  at  St.  Denis',  and  in  a 
small  place  like  that  there's  hardly  room  for  us. 
I  don't  see  that  we  have  any  right  to  take  pos- 
session of  a  man's  house  because  he  happens  to 
be  away,  even  although  he  is  suspected  of 
smuggling — more  especially  when  he  has  only 
left  two  defenceless  women  to  protect  it.  Of 
course,  if  you  intend  going  into  some  outhouse 
it  won't  matter  so  much." 

"  Outhouse,  be  d d  !  "  exclaimed  Jamie, 

impatiently,  and  with  a  look  of  superior  wisdom. 
"  I  say,  Yorke,  you've  got  to  see  a  little  more  of 


22  Sinners  {Twain. 

life  and  the  world  yet  before  you  can  get  along 
in  this  country." 

A  wise  man,  if  he  has  not  traveled,  is  as 
worthy  of  respect  as  the  thoughtful  man  who 
has,  in  that  he  realizes  his  own  littleness  and 
paves  the  way  to  knowledge.  But  a  fool  is  like 
a  fat  donkey  that  ventures  upon  thin  ice  :  he 
courts  extinction  by  the  weight  of  his  own  ig- 
norance. 

The  sergeant  had  turned  quickly  when  Jamie 
spoke,  and  looked  full  in  the  face  of  his  superior 
officer  with  not  a  little  surprise,  then  considera- 
ble amusement.  As  he  went  slowly  on  without 
making  any  reply,  a  pitying  smile  crossed  his 
features  as  he  ejaculated  under  his  breath, 
"  poor  devil ! " 

"  Harry,"  said  the  private,  to  his  older  com- 
rade the  sergeant,  as  the  scout  and  Jamie 
headed  down  the  coullee,  and  with  a  look  of 
mock  gravity  on  his  face,  "  don't  you  wish  you 
had  seen  as  much  life  as  the  Amiable  One?  " 

"  Come,  now,"  answered  the  sergeant,  "  none 
of  your  treasonable  remarks — let's  talk  of  some- 
thing else.  By  Jove,  though,  I  can't  help  wish- 
ing that  old  fool  St.  Denis  had  stayed  at  home  ! 
If  it  weren't  for  that  poor  girl  of  his,  I'd  say 
serve  him  right  to  get  caught — and  ten  chances 
to  one  we'll  nab  him  this  time.  It's  a  shame  of 
him  to  ruin  her  life  like  this — and  she  is  such  a 
superior  sort  of  girl ;  I  think  her  mother  must 
have  been  a  decided  cut  above  the  common  run 
of  them,  though  old  Gabriel's  not  such  an  un- 
presentable looking  old  fellow  himself.  And  by 
the  way,  Dick,  I  don't  suppose  you've  seen  her 
yet.  It  won't  do,  you  know,  to  get  soft  upon 
her." 

"Ah!  I  see — soft  yourself,  eh ?"  said  Dick, 
disrespectfully. 

"  Well,  not  quite,"  was  the  answer,  in  a  tone 
that  did  not  exactly  reassure  the  youngster,  and 
still  less  invited  further  discussion  of  the  subject. 


CHAPTER  III. 

"  A  CAD    OF  THE   FIRST   WATER  !  " 

SHE  stood  outside  the  house,  bareheaded, 
and  looked  towards  the  sky,  while  her  hands 
were  outstretched  in  front  of  her,  palms  upward. 
The  light  breeze  caught  up  the  silky  wealth  of 
gleaming  hair  that  had  escaped  from  its  heavy 
folds  for  the  time  being,  until  it  streamed  in 
mid-air  behind  her  like  a  shimmering  shaft  of 
golden  light ;  it  kissed  and  heightened  the  deli- 
cate color  on  her  cheek.  A  few  feathery  flakes 
of  snow  melted  away  as  they  fell  upon  her  firm 
white  palms:  even  if  they  had  been  animate 
things,  perhaps,  they  would  have  been  quite  con- 
tent to  pass  away  there.  There  was  a  look  of 
concern  upon  Marie  St.  Denis'  face  as  she 
looked  all  around  before  going  into  the  house 
again. 

"  Jeannette,"  she  said  to  an  elderly  and  tidy- 
looking  French  half-breed  woman,  "  I  believe 
we  are  going  to  have  a  storm.  Oh,  I  hope  dad 
is  in  some  safe  place  !  It  makes  me  ill  to  think 
of  him  being  on  the  prairie,  and  perhaps  a  bad 
blizzard  coming  on." 

"  He'll  be  all  right,  ma  cherie ;  fret  not  your- 
self," said  old  Jeannette,  cheerily.  But  she 
said  under  her  breath  all  the  same,  "  and  serve 
him  right  for  going,  the  wicked  man  !  " 

It  was  a  long,  low  room,  and  scrupulously 
clean.  To  use  a  rather  absurd  but  popular  say- 
ing, "  you  might  have  eaten  your  dinner  off  the 
floor  "(just  as  if  there  was  any  necessity  for  any 
one  to  perpetrate  such  an  inconvenient  and 
barbarous  deed  !),  so  beautifully  clean  and  fresh 


24  Sinners 

it  was.  There  were  some  humble  and  not 
unsuccessful  attempts  at  adornment  in  this  room. 
For  into  each  of  the  windows  were  fitted  little 
boxes,  in  which  still  bloomed  some  hardy  plants. 
There  was  an  absence  of  all  cheap  or  gaudy 
ornamentation,  which  is  so  often  found  in  the 
houses  of  those  whose  love  of  show  is  paramount 
to  their  love  of  the  beautiful.  But  there  were 
some  unique  and  not  unbeautiful  specimens  of 
wrought  Indian  bead-work  hung  against  the  wall 
that  made  one  think  of  the  time  when  interiors 
were  hung  with  tapestry.  One  end  of  the  room 
was  sacred  to  the  burnished  and  well-kept  culi- 
nary articles  of  Jeannette.  Here  and  there 
against  the  walls,  mounted  fan-shape,  were  white 
owls  with  their  feathers  like  great  ruffles  sur- 
rounding their  beautiful  heads  ;  and  eagle-hawks 
fierce  and  picturesque,  mounted  in  alike  fashion. 
They  were  a  species  of  ornamentation  that  any 
drawing-room  in  Belgravia  might  have  been 
proud  of. 

Unconsciously  in  keeping  with  a  prevailing 
fashion  stood  a  small  triangular  glass-fronted 
cupboard,  with  some  wonderful  old  china  in  it, 
in  one  corner  of  the  room.  That  china  had 
belonged  to  the  girl's  mother  and  grandmother, 
and  was  a  sacred  thing.  There  was  a  pair  of 
brass  mounted,  flint-lock  pistols  crossed  over  a 
quaint,  narrow,  and  high  mirror,  and  beautiful 
stone  Indian  tomahawks  and  pipes,  whose  helves 
and  stems  were  a  rich  mosaic  of  colored  beads 
and  from  which  dangled  eagles'  feathers. 
Crossed  over  this  doorway  was  a  pair  of  snow- 
shoes,  and  over  that  one,  in  the  center,  was  a 
magnificent  elk's  head  whose  antlers  touched  the 
ceiling.  And  there  were  two  tiny  models  of 
birch-bark  canoes,  and  Indian  row'ers  in  them 
with  paddles  poised  in  air.  On  a  small  table  at 
the  far  end  of  the  room  there  was  a  unique  grass- 
like  woven  cloth  that  was  made  beautiful  and 


4"R  GaD  of  tbe  ffirst  "CClater!"      25 

striking  by  having  a  fantastic  pattern  wrought  on 
it  in  colored  silks  and  beads,  and  heavily  fringed. 
The  yellow  and  red  colors  which  the  Crees 
affect  predominated  in  it.  Strange  it  is  to  think — 
and  few  there  are,  perhaps,  who  know  it — that 
the  Crees  got  these  colors  from  the  Mexicans, 
when  the  former  were  a  bold  and  warlike  race — 
when  their  territory  lay  far  to  the  south,  and 
ere  they  were  driven  gradually  backwards  by 
younger  and  stronger  races.  Though  there 
was  a  certain  air  of  barbaric  splendor  about 
that  cloth,  still  the  effect  of  the  whole  room 
was  in  keeping  with,  and  characteristic  of,  those 
romantic  and  picturesque  elements  of  a  past 
now  vanishing  before  a  more  prosaic  nineteenth- 
century  utilitarianism.  There  was,  indeed, 
really  good  taste  displayed  in  the  arrangement 
of  every  detail  in  that  room.  Not  even  the 
conventional  cooking  and  box  stove  and  lengths 
of  piping  could  detract  from  the  quaintness  of 
that  old-world  interior,  for  they  were  blackened 
and  polished  till  they  reflected  one's  image  like 
a  mirror. 

Then  the  girl  put  an  iron  on  the  stove,  and 
looked  at  a  little  heap  of  collars  and  cuffs  which 
lay  upon  the  dresser  ready  to  be  operated 
upon. 

"  Sit  down,  Jeannette,"  she  said,  "  and  tell  me 
a  story  while  I  iron  these  things— something 
about  the  old  French  voyagers,  or  about  the 
early  days  of  Fort  Garry  before  Kiel  came  to 
make  the  metis  dissatisfied." 

Just  at  this  moment  a  great  wiry-haired  dog, 
something  between  a  Scotch  staghound  and  a 
sheep-dog,  lifted  its  head  and  growled  omi- 
nously. It  had  been  lying  half  asleep  in  front 
of  the  stove.  The  girl  started  significantly  and 
placed  one  finger  against  her  lower  lip.  The 
half-breed  woman  put  her  head  on  one  side  and 
listened  intently.  Then  they  heard  the  dull, 


26  Sinners  Gwain. 

uneven  thud  of  horses'  feet,  and  dark  shadows, 
as  it  were,  passed  and  momentarily  darkened 
the  front  windows.  In  another  minute  there 
was  a  loud,  irregular  knocking  at  the  door ; 
then  it  was  thrown  open,  and  a  great  fur-clad 
figure  stumbled  into  the  room,  powdered  with 
snow. 

"  What  a  devil  of  a  day  !  "  it  exclaimed. 

It  is  perhaps  unnecessary  to  say  this  was  the 
gentleman,  already  referred  to,  who  had  the 
honor  of  bearing  Her  Majesty's  commission. 

In  another  second  another  figure  entered  but 
it  came  no  farther  than  the  door,  and  closed  it 
so  as  to  shut  out  the  drifting  snow.  This  figure 
was  the  sergeant,  who  did  not  speak,  but,  indeed, 
seemed  somewhat  embarrassed. 

The  girl  still  stood  as  if  transfixed  with 
astonishment  at  this  sudden  entry,  or  as  if 
these  uninvited  guests  hailed  from  another 
world,  instead  of  being  only  matter-of-fact 
Mounted  Policemen.  But,  surely,  it  was  some- 
thing more  than  mere  astonishment  that  paled 
her  cheek,  and  for  a  second  made  her  lean 
against  the  dresser  as  if  for  support.  Who  can 
tell  what  thoughts  passed  through  that  poor 
girl's  mind  just  then  ?  It  was  not  difficult  to 
speculate  upon  one  all-powerful  vision  that  rose 
before  her,  and  that  was  her  father.  Into  her 
expressive,  wide-open  eyes  there  came  a  look 
of  startled  apprehension,  and  then  the  con- 
sciousness of  some  dreaded  presence,  which 
was  pitiful  to  look  upon  in  one  so  young.  But 
the  gallant  leader  of  the  party  called  back  the 
color  into  her  cheeks.  The  inspector  was  a 
married  man  but  he  possessed  a  way  with  him 
which  he  considered  was  all-potent  with  the  fair 
sex.  Perhaps  it  had  been  potent  to  a  certain 
extent — in  that  sphere  which  he  adorned. 

"  Now  then,  Mary  Ann,"  he  said,  "  you  don't 
look  as  if  you  were  glad  to  see  me  as  I  know 


TO   SEE    ME." — Page  2b. 


"  n  CaD  of  tbe  ff irst  Water ! "      27 

you  are.  Just  get  a  rustle  on  like  a  dear,  and 
shove  another  log  into  that  stove  and — damn 
it !  take  that  big,  ugly  brute  away  for  goodness 
sake !  " 

The  great  hound  was  growling  and  sniffing 
in  a  suspicious  fashion  in  the  neighborhood  of 
the  officer's  ankles,  occasioning  that  gentleman 
no  little  concern. 

"  Sh — h —  get  away,  Michelle  !  Lie  down, 
sirre  !  "  cried  Jeannette,  catching  up  a  billet  of 
wood  and  chasing  the  hound  from  the  visitors, 
much  to  Jamie's  satisfaction. 

And  now  the  claim  of  stranger  to  the  rites  of 
hospitality  had  dawned  upon  the  startled  girl ; 
and  as  if  she  had  not  heard  the  officer's  free 
and  easy  speech,  she  said — 

"  Won't  you  sit  down  ?  you  must  be  cold," 
and  she  placed  chairs  for  them  near  the  stove, 
and  was  handling  a  fresh  log  to  put  in  the  box- 
stove,  when  the  sergeant  came  quickly  towards 
her. 
j  "  Allow  me,  Miss  St.  Denis,"  he  said. 

At  the  same  moment  he  had  drawn  off  his 
mitts,  and  seized  the  log  of  wood  she  had  lifted, 
in  both  hands.  In  doing  this  his  hand  ^acci- 
dentally touched  hers;  she  looked  up  at  him 
suddenly,  and  the  color  on  her  cheek  deepened 
not  a  little.  "  How  cold  your  hands  are,"  she 
remarked  ;  "  their  touch  quite  startled  me : 
they  are  like  lead."  But  she  let  him  take  the 
log ;  and,  perhaps,  he  did  not  know  that  this 
simple,  commonplace  act  of  politeness,  which 
with  some  would  have  passed  as  a  matter  of 
course,  was  recognized  gratefully  by  her  as  a 
deference  she  felt  was  only  her  due,  even  if  she 
were  only  Gabriel  St.  Denis'  daughter. 

"  Have  you  put  your  horses  in  the  stable  ?  " 
Marie  asked,  turning  to  the  sergeant.  "  There 
are  four  or  five  spare  stalls,  you  know,  and  lots 
of  hay." 


28  Sinners  Cwain. 

It  was  significant  that  she  did  not  address 
herself  to  the  officer.  But  Jamie  resented  this. 
He  must  show  this  untutored  child  of  the 
prairie  that  he  was  in  command  of  the  party. 

"  Don't  fret,  my  dear,"  he  remarked,  with  an 
assumption  of  graceful  facetiousness ;  "  my 
men  know  how  to  make  themselves  at  home. 
You  press  the  button — I  mean,  you  find  the 
hay,  and  we  do  the  rest." 

Marie  looked  at  him  wonderingly  for  an 
instant.  She  did  not  know  whether  to  put  this 
man's  strange  speech  down  to  his  ignorance  of 
the  common  civilities  of  every-day  life,  or  to  a 
chronic  crudeness,  or  rudeness  of  manner. 
She  only  slightly  bit  her  lip,  and  made  no  com- 
ment. She  would  be  charitable,  and  ascribe 
his  familiarity  to  the  former  hypothesis :  it 
would  not  do  to  neglect  the  sacred  rites  of 
hospitality,  even  if— and  here  her  heart  sank 
within  her  at  the  thought. 

In  another  minute  the  private  and  the  scout 
had  come  into  the  room.  At  last,  Jamie  asked 
abruptly — 

"  When  do  you  expect  the  old  man  back  ?  " 

The  sergeant  turned  uneasily  in  his  chair, 
when  he  saw  the  look  of  wistful  entreaty  and 
pain  upon  the  girl's  face  on  hearing  this  blunt 
question. 

"  If  you  mean  my  father,"  she  answered,  "  I 
am  not  in  a  position  to  tell  you.  Do  you  wish 
particularly  to  see  him  ?  " 

"  Yup— yaas,  I  just  reckon  we  want  to — to 
have  an  opportunity  of  interviewing  him," 
answered  Jamie  in  his  happiest  manner.  He 
was  under  the  impression  that  his  humor  was 
of  a  light  and  graceful  kind,  and  he  looked  into 
the  faces  of  the  others  to  mark  the  signs  of 
appreciation  of  these  qualities.  But  he  was 
nettled  at  discovering  only  a  stolid  imperturb- 
ability in  them.  Had  his  perceptive  faculties 


"  a  Cafc  of  tbe  tfitst  Mater ! "      29 

not  been  so  dulled  by  conceit,  he  might  possi- 
bly have  detected  a  look  of  unqualified  disgust 
and  shame  there  instead. 

"  Now,  look  here,  my  dear,"  he  continued, 
"  it's  no  use  of  you  trying  this  innocent  sort  of 
dodge  on  with  me.  We  want  to  see  the  old 
man,  and  I  guess  we'll  see  him,  s'posin'  we've 
got  to  wait  in  this  'ere  house  for  a  fortnight " 

"  Sir  !  "  interrupted  the  girl  suddenly,  and 
turning  her  great  clear  eyes  full  upon  him, 
with  almost  an  incredulous  look  in  them. 

The  sergeant  coughed  and  shifted  uneasily 
in  his  seat.  The  constable  kicked  the  heel  of 
the  scout  surreptitiously  with  his  out-stretched 
foot ;  and  the  latter  seemed  to  find  something 
that  interested  him  immensely  in  a  pair  of 
snowshoes  which  were  crossed  on  the  wall 
over  the  dresser.  The  half-breed  woman 
paused  in  the  performance  of  some  work, 
folded  her  arms,  and  looked  at  the  officer  with 
brows  that  knitted  like  gathering  storms.  But 
Jamie  saw  none  of  these  signs  and  continued — 

"  You  don't  seem  to  understand,  my  dear ;  a 
pretty  girl  like  you " 

But  he  had  overstepped  the  mark  this  time. 
The  warm  blood  mounted  into  the  girl's  face  : 
she  held  her  head  erect,  and  looked  at  him 
unflinchingly  as  she  interrupted — 

"  Sir,  by  what  right  do  you  insult  two  de- 
fenceless women  ?  " 

The  sergeant's  breath  came  and  went  in 
quick  gasps.  Could  he  risk  calling  his  superior 
officer  to  a  sense  of  what  was  proper,  and  rely 
on  Townley,  the  private,  and  the  scout  becom- 
ing temporarily  deaf  ?  For  he  knew  if  he 
spoke  it  meant  a  serious  charge  of  insurbordi- 
nation  against  him.  But  the  officer  himself  re- 
leased his  subordinate  from  his  difficulty,  and 
brought  about  his  own  undoing.  He  stared 
blankly  at  her  for  a  moment,  as  if  he  had  not 


30  Sinners  Uwain. 

rightly  heard  ;  then,  realizing  that  his  authority 
— a  high  and  mighty  officer's  of  the  North- West 
Mounted  Police — had  been  called  in  question 
by  a  frail  girl,  his  round  moon-like  face  became 
flushed  and  purple — the  change  was  inconsid- 
erable from  its  normal  one — as  he  blurted  out 
in  a  tone  meant  to  impress  the  entire  party, 
and  overawe  this  spirited  girl  in  particular — 

"  Girl,  do  you  know  who  and  what  I  am  ?  " 

"  You  have  just  enlightened  us  on  these 
points,"  she  answered,  in  a  strangely  quiet  and 
subdued  manner,  "  for  your  actions  and  a  cer- 
tain reputation  are  identical." 

"  Eh — what  ?  "  he  asked  uneasily  ;  he  had  not 
exactly  followed  her,  but  he  thought  his  manner 
had  evidently  impressed  this  wayward  girl. 
"  Who  and  what  am  I,  then  ?  " 

"  An  officer  of  the  North- West  Mounted  Po- 
lice," she  replied  calmly,  "  and  a  cad  of  the 
first  water ! " 

As  Pierre  (who  chuckled  to  himself  for  nearly 
two  hours  after  this  speech)  said  to  Dick  Town- 
ley  that  night,  the  girl  was,  indeed,  a  "  chip  of  the 
old  block  !  " 


CHAPTER  IV. 

"  WILL   YOU   DO   AS  I   WANT   YOU?" 

THE  sergeant  rose  to  his  feet :  he  could  not 
sit  by  any  longer  and  be  an  impassive  witness 
of  such  a  scene.  To  say  that  he  felt  heartily 
ashamed  at  this  moment  of  the  cloth  he  wore, 
and  for  the  well-merited  rebuke  just  accorded  it 
by  this  beautiful  and  indignant  girl,  were  putting 
it  mildly. 

Jamie  sat  speechless,  with  his  dark  eyes  fairly 
bulging  out  of  his  head.  That  a  mere  slip  of  a 
girl  should  have  the  audacity  to  openly  insult 
him — of  course  there  was  no  question  of  insult 
in  so  far  as  his  conduct  in  relation  to  her  was 
concerned — an  officer  and  a  gentleman— oh,  of 
course,  a  gentleman — and  before  his  subordi- 
nates, too — was  a  thing  so  unparalleled  in  in- 
spector Jamie  Bounder's  vast  experience  (in  the 
Great  Lone  Land),  that  it  left  him  literally  in- 
capable of  thought  or  action.  To  use  one  of 
his  own  beautiful  and  choice  expressions,  he 
was  "  tee-totally  flabergasted  "  for  the  moment. 
The  private  had  risen  with  the  sergeant,  and 
made  for  the  door.  But  the  conduct  of  the  lit- 
tle scout  was  most  remarkable,  for,  on  rising, 
he  had,  curiously  enough,  kicked  his  hat 
into  a  corner  of  the  room,  and  appeared  to 
have  considerable  difficulty  in  picking  it  up 
again.  He  reminded  one  of  an  ostrich  with  its 
head  stuck  in  a  hole,  and  its  huge  body  gravitat- 
ing aimlessly  round  it.  He — Pierre — however, 
snorted  in  a  most  peculiar  and  suspicious  fash- 
ion. 

But  it  was  the  old  half-breed  woman  who 


32  Sinners  tEwatn, 

took  advantage  of  the  situation  to  interfere  on 
behalf  of  her  young  mistress,  and  put  a  check 
to  the  uncalled-for  impertinences  of  the  gallant 
officer.  Her  dark  face  became  sallow  ;  her  black, 
sharp  eyes  sparkled  ominously  ;  her  high,  quav- 
ering voice  betrayed  her  excitable  Gallic  origin 
as  she  faced  the  somewhat  surprised  officer,  and 
cried,  with  a  determined  stamp  of  her  foot — 

"  You  shall  not ;  I  say  you  shall  not,  no  mat- 
ter what  you  are,  sit  here  and  insult  my  young 
mistress.  If  you  cannot  see  you  are  an  unwel- 
come convze  in  this  room,  you  must  be  asked  to 
relieve  us  of  your  presence,  and  get  out  of  it ! 
We  cannot  in  this  storm  ask  you  to  leave  the 
house,  but  there  is  one  large  room  you  can  have, 
it  is  to  the  right  of  the  passage  as  you  come  in, 
with  a  stove  in  it.  You  will  be  good  enough  to 
remain  in  it  while  you  have  to  stop  here.  You 
are  evidently  not  accustomed  to  the  society  of 
women.  Therefore,  as  long  as  you  are  in  this 
house,  do  not  dare  to  enter  this  room  again. 
You  see  this  saucepan  of  water  on  the  fire  ?  It 
will  boil  in  a  few  seconds  ;  it  shall  remain  there, 
and  I  swear  by  the  Holy  Virgin,  over  your  face 
I  will  throw  it,  if  you  as  much  as  show  your 
nose  round  the  corner  of  that  door.  These  gen- 
tlemen who  are  with  you  may  occasionally  come 

in  if  they  want  to — but  you — git ! "  and  she 

literally  brought  her  teeth  together  with  a  snap 
as  she  pronounced  these  words  and  pointed  to 
the  door. 

"  You  demmed  she-cat !  "  exclaimed  Jamie, 
sorely  amazed  and  taken  aback. 

It  was  a  bad  break.  Jeannette  snatched  up  a 
billet  of  wood  from  a  heap  alongside  the  stove 
(the  Indian  blood  was  showing  now  in  addition 
to  the  Gallic),  and  in  another  second  he  would 
most  assuredly  have  stopped  it,  in  its  projected 
career,  with  his  head,  had  not  he  ducked  that 
turnip-like  growth  with  a  smartness  that  did  him 


iffou  Do  as  H  Want  H?our>    33 

credit,  and  made  a  bolt  for  the  door.  Once  in 
the  little  passage  he  found  the  other  room,  where 
Dick  Townley  and  the  scout  at  once  set  to 
work  to  make  a  good  fire  in  the  stove.  It  was 
a  large,  comfortable  room,  with  a  bed  in  a  recess, 
— indeed,  it  was  Gabriel  St.  Denis'  own  room 
and  was  as  quaintly  furnished  as  the  kitchen. 
Only  on  a  species  of  stand  stood  the  mounted 
head  of  that  now,  alas !  extinct  monarch  of  the 
prairie,  the  great  American  bison.  It  was  a 
truly  grand  specimen  ;  there  was  an  air  of 
might  and  majesty  in  that  picturesque,  shaggy, 
fierce  front.  Jamie  took  a  seat  moodily  near 
the  stove,  and  awaited  an  opportunity  of  vent- 
ing his  superfluous  spleen  on  the  private  or  the 
scout. 

In  the  mean  time  the  sergeant  had  gone  back 
into  the  kitchen,  and  shut  the  door  gently  be- 
hind him.  He  held  his  hat  in  his  hands — Jamie 
had  never  removed  his — and  as  he  stood  before 
the  two  women  there  was  a  look  of  unmistaka- 
ble pain  and  humiliation  upon  his  face.  The 
girl  had  gone  back  to  the  dresser,  and  had 
mechanically  taken  up  her  iron,  but,  somehow, 
she  did  not  seem  as  if  she  cared  to  meet  the 
eyes  of  the  sergeant.  And  now  the  latter 
spoke. 

"  I  cannot  tell  you  how  ashamed  and  sorry  I 
am,"  he  began,  apologetically,  in  rather  an  un- 
steady voice,  "  at  the  annoyance  you  have  been 
subjected  to.  The  fact  of  the  matter  is,  the  in- 
spector is  hardly  himself  to-day,  he  was  sub- 
jected to  some  slight  annoyance  before  we 
came  here." 

And  now  the  girl  stopped  her  ironing  and 
looked  full  upon  the  face  of  the  dark,  handsome- 
featured  trooper.  Why  should  he  lie  for  such  a 
brute  ? 

"  Does  your  force  produce  many  such  speci- 
mens?" she  inquired,  with  all  traces  of  her 


34  Sinners  Gwain. 

former  annoyance  gone,  but  with  a  touch  of 
irony  in  her  voice. 

"  Only  one  or  two,  thank  goodness  ;  but  they 
do  all  the  mischief,"  was  the  reply.  "  It  is  not 
an  edifying  subject  to  talk  about  such  men,  or 
how  they  come  to  get  commissions  in  the  force. 
There  are,  however,  many  officers  who,  if  they 
had  heard  the  inspector  talk  as  he  did  a  few 
minutes  ago,  would  have  knocked  him  down  ;  I 
am  certain  of  that.  It  may  be  presumption  on 
my  part,  but  I  say  this  for  the  sake  of  many  of 
his  brother  officers  whom  I  admire  and  respect 
as  men  and  gentlemen.  Anyhow,  on  behalf  of 
my  comrades  of  the  rank  and  file,  I  should  like 
to  express  my  sense  of  shame  and  indignation 
at  the  insult  which  you  were  subjected  to.  It  is 
very  good  of  you  to  offer  us  even  the  next  room 
to  stay  in,  but  you  have  only  to  say  the  word, 
and  I  can  take  it  upon  myself  to  promise  that 
we  shall  quit  it  also." 

"There  is  no  occasion  to  do  that,"  she  said, 
her  innate  goodness  of  heart  struggling  with 
another  motive. 

She  took  a  linen  cuff  from  off  the  heap  be- 
side her,  and  spread  it  on  the  dresser.  How 
beautifully  rounded  and  symmetrical  her  arm 
was  as  she  poised  the  hot  iron,  and  how  firm 
and  delicately  finished  her  small  hand.  He 
thought  of  the  many  fine  ladies  he  had  known 
in  his  time  who  would  have  been  jealous  could 
they  but  have  seen  such  hands.  He  looked  at 
that  sweet,  fair  face,  in  which  the  light  of  truth 
shone,  and  he,  who  had  in  an  erratic,  stirring 
career  seen  all  sorts  and  conditions  of  women — 
he  who  had  experienced  many  strange  phases  of 
life,  felt  his  heart  go  out  to  this  girl  with  a  great 
pity,  which  was  only  accentuated  by  a  sense  of 
his  own  helplessness  to  aid  her. 

There  was  a  significant  pause,  only  broken 
by  the  slight  clicking  noise  of  the  iron  as  it  trav- 


"  Will  12ou  Do  as  fl  Want  fou  7  "     35 

eled  over  the  snowy  cuff  and  the  swathed 
board.  Then  old  Jeannette,  who  knew  and 
looked  with  a  favorable  eye  upon  the  sergeant, 
being  somewhat  mollified  by  the  humble  and 
deferential  tone  he  adopted,  opened  a  door  at 
the  far  end  of  the  room,  and  went  into  another 
to  perform,  to  her,  some  never-ending  domestic 
duties. 

Then  the  sergeant,  Harry  Yorke,  said  some- 
what awkwardly — 

"  I  have  brought  you  these  books,  Miss  St. 
Denis ;  I  told  you  of  them  last  time  I  was  here. 
I  was  not  sure  that  we  should  call  upon  you, 
but  put  them  in  my  wallets  in  case." 

Many  a  time  had  this  man,  when  in  a  differ- 
ent station  of  life,  given  some  lady  of  the  great, 
gay  world  a  much  more  significant  token  of  re- 
gard without  as  much  as  the  faintest  suspicion 
of  embarrassment,  but  now  he  felt  like  a  school- 
boy talking  to  a  debutante,  or  a  bashful  lover 
who  is  saying  his  first  sweet  thing. 

"  It  is  very  good  of  you  to  have  remembered 
the  books,"  she  remarked,  simply,  but  reward- 
ing him  with  a  pleasant  look.  Then  that  odd, 
apprehensive  expression,  which  like  a  shadow 
he  had  seen  flit  across  her  face  when  they  had 
first  entered,  once  more  crossed  it.  As  if  she 
had  nerved  herself  to  say  something  she  had 
been  pondering  over,  she  again  turned  as  if  to 
face  him,  and,  looking  him  steadily  in  the  eyes, 
asked — 

"  Are  you  going  to  wait  here  till  my  father 
comes  back  ?  " 

He  seemed  ill  at  ease  and  distressed  in  a 
most  unaccountable  manner,  this  happy-go- 
lucky  trooper.  Indeed,  he  looked  like  an  awk- 
ward, hulking  schoolboy  in  the  presence  of  the 
head-master,  who  gazes  with  a  sinister  aspect 
upon  the  spectacle  of  conscious  guilt.  He 
tried  to  look  away  from  her,  but  he  could  not. 


36  Sinners  Cwafn. 

There  was  evidently  a  struggle  of  some  sort 
going  on  within  him  ;  of  natural  inclination  and 
a  sense  of  duty.  And  now  these  all-compelling 
eyes  of  hers  seemed  to  have  exercised  their  po- 
tency, for  when  he  spoke  it  was  as  she  had 
willed,  the  plain  and  bitter  truth. 

"  I  cannot  tell  you  how  much  against  my  own 
inclination  I  am  here  on  my  present  errand," 
he  said,  brokenly  and  hurriedly  ;  "  but  as  I  see 
you  only  desire  confirmation  of  what  you  al- 
ready know,  it  is  no  breach  of  trust  on  my  part 
to  admit  that  you  are  right  in  what  you  have 
hinted  at." 

He  paused,  as  if  there  were  something  else  on 
his  mind  which  he  did  not  rightly  know  if  he 
would  be  justified  in  saying  to  her.  Then  he 
took  a  turn  up  and  down  the  room,  coming 
back  to  where  she  was  standing  calmly  regard- 
ing him,  with  her  two  hands  resting  on  the 
back  of  a  chair,  but  still  with  that  wistful  look 
in  her  eyes  that  was  pitiable  to  see. 

After  a  brief  pause  he  continued,  somewhat 
coldly  as  she  thought — 

"  I  do  not  know  that  I  should  say  what  I  am 
going  to  now,  more  especially  as  I  think  you 
have  not  treated  me  as  you  ought  to  have  done. 
For  a  very  long  time  the  operations  of  your 
father  have  been  known  to  the  Mounted  Police. 
For  instance,  they  were  telegraphed  only  a 
few  days  ago  from  Fort  Benton  to  Walsh  over 
the  'Rocky  Mountain  Telegraph  Company's' 
wire.  Now,  Miss  St.  Denis,  I  naturally  feel 
somewhat  mortified,  though  I  am  aware  you 
are  perfectly  justified  in  asking  me  by  what 
right  I  express  such  a  sentiment,  when  I  think 
how  I  have  sacrificed  that  fine  sense  of  duty 
(which  should  always  be  paramount  in  a  man 
in  my  position)  for  the  sake  of  helping  your 
father  to  free  himself  from  the  dangerous  con- 
nections he  has  made,  and  how  my  well-meant 
warnings  have  been  disregarded." 


"  mill  10ou  do  as  ff  mant  12ou  ? "    37 

She  did  not  tell  him,  as  some  other  women 
might  have  done  (either  from  mistaken  motives 
of  a  subtle  political  nature  peculiar  to  a  woman's 
mind,  or  as  a  matter  of  fact),  that  neither  she 
nor  her  father  had  invited  this  confidence  on  his 
part,  or  had  even  attempted  in  the  very  slight- 
est degree  to  deceive  him  or  dissemble  when 
uninvited  he  had  visited  them.  She  only  recog- 
nized the  justice  and  truth  of  what  he  hinted  at, 
and,  pressing  her  hand  wearily  to  her  forehead, 
she  waited  for  him  to  continue,  which  he  did. 

"  But  let  us  speak  more  plainly  in  order  that 
we  may  not  misunderstand  each  other.  As 
you  know,  I  have  called  several  times  upon 
your  father  here,  just  as  any  other  civilian 
would,  in  a  purely  private  and  social  capacity, 
and  you  have  always  been  good  enough  to 
make  me  welcome  as  such.  Indeed,  I  often 
have  been  only  too  glad  to  avail  myself  of  the 
opportunity  your  father  so  kindly  placed  at  my 
disposal,  of  spending  an  hour  or  two  pleasantly 
that  would  otherwise  have  been  spent  very 
drearily  indeed  in  this  lonely  part  of  the  country. 
Of  course — and  I  am  very  sorry  to  give  you  pain 
by  referring  to  it  again— I  have  always  been 
aware  of  the  traffic  your  father  engaged  in  with 
Montana,  and  I  have  always,  so  far  as  I  could 
consistently  with  my  sense  of  duty,  and  ideas  of 
what  was  proper  as  his  guest,  endeavored  to 
influence  him  against  the  suicidal  course  he  is 
pursuing,  for  such  a  course  in  the  end  must  al- 
ways prove  disastrous.  Indeed,  the  very  last 
time  I  was  here  I  gave  your  father  a  very  direct 
warning.  It  seems  madness  to  me  that  he 
should  have  attempted  another  venture  in  the 
teeth  of  what  was  said  on  that  occasion.  And 
now  we  have  been  sent  to  intercept  him  as  he 
comes  across  the  lines.  It  will  be  a  very  seri- 
ous affair  for  him  if  we  get  him  with  a  contra- 
band cargo,  which  he  is  pretty  sure  to  have.  I 


38  Sinners  Gwafn, 

can  assure  you  I  dislike  the  painful  task  of  ar- 
resting him  only  less  than  the  necessity  of  hav- 
ing to  prepare  you  for  it." 

And  now  the  composure  of  the  girl  seemed 
to  have  deserted  her.  She  grew  very  pale,  and 
a  dizziness  seemed  to  seize  her  ;  she  swayed  for 
a  moment  where  she  stood.  The  trooper 
caught  her  by  the  arm  tenderly  and  respect- 
fully, and  placed  her  in  a  seat.  Looking  up  she 
saw  the  sincerity  of  his  great  pity  for  her  in 
his  eyes,  and  it  moved  her  strangely.  But  she 
seemed  to  recover  as  she  spoke  to  him. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  am  rather  upset,"  she  said, 
with  a  pitiful  little  smile.  Then,  as  if  uncon- 
scious of  the  presence  of  any  one,  she  involunta- 
rily clasped  her  hands  in  front  of  her  and  moaned 
"  Oh,  my  poor  father,  it  is  all  for  me  you  do  this 
thing!  Goodness  knows  I  would  rather  work 
from  morning  till  night  and  live  on  a  crust  than 
have  things  as  they  are." 

She  remained  for  a  few  minutes  as  if  buried 
in  thought,  with  her  hands  nervously  clasping 
each  other  on  her  lap,  and  her  eyes  looking  out 
tearfully,  and  oh,  so  sadly,  into  the  blurred, 
hurrying  snowstorm.  Harry  Yorke  stood  with 
his  hands  behind  his  back,  and  a  troubled  ex- 
pression upon  his  face,  looking  away  from  her 
into  the  wintry-like  chaos  of  drifting  snowflakes. 
Once  or  twice  the  girl  stirred  uneasily,  and  re- 
garded the  trooper  intently  as  if  she  were  study- 
ing him.  Some  struggle,  some  conflict  of 
inclinations,  was  going  on  within  her.  Was  it 
her  maidenly  pride,  and  that  sense  of  duty  she 
owed  to  a  parent?  Her  knowledge  of  the  con- 
ventionalities of  life  might  not  have  been  so 
complete  as  many  of  her  more  wordly-wise 
sisters  in  more  favored  parts  of  the  world,  but 
her  innate  maiden  modesty  was  true  to  itself 
and  free  from  prudery.  Modesty  is  always  a 
powerful  charm  in  a  girl  when  untrammelled 


"mm  lou  do  as  1T  Idant  few?"     39 

by  false  restraints.  Once  or  twice  she  moved 
her  lips  as  if  to  speak,  then  checked  herself. 
After  all,  on  what  grounds  could  she  claim  the 
assistance  or  connivance  of  this  man  ?  He  had 
always  treated  her  only  with  that  courtly  and 
kindly  respect,  which  her  instincts  told  her  was 
in  no  way  different  from  that  which  he  had  used 
towards  those  grand  ladies  of  that  very  differ- 
ent world  to  which  he  had  at  one  time  belonged. 
But  in  the  Convent  at  Prince  Albert  she  had 
mixed  with  many  who  were  ladies,  both  by 
birth  and  upbringing,  and  as  on  both  her 
father's  and  her  mother's  side  she  inherited  that 
natural  dignity  and  charm  of  manner  that  has 
its  origin  in  gentle  blood,  she,  perhaps,  showed 
a  higher  degree  of  refinement  than  generally 
falls  to  girls  in  her  sphere  of  life  in  the  Cana- 
dian North- West,  so,  perhaps,  he  could  not  well 
treat  her  otherwise.  Besides,  she  had  read 
much,  and,  what  was  of  greater  importance, 
she  had  a  natural  taste  for  the  better  kind  of 
literature  of  a  healthy  and  elevating  tone,  not 
the  pessimistical,  prurient,  and  sickly  sort  that 
libels  the  present  age  under  the  false  title  of  the 
society  "  up-to-date  "  novel.  She  could  not 
presume  upon  any  fancied  regard  which  he 
might  entertain  for  her ;  the  very  idea  was 
nauseous.  Besides,  in  that  case  what  would  he 
think  of  her  ?  To  throw  herself  upon  his 
pity  would  be  equally  humiliating.  More- 
over, would  it  not  be  a  direct  insult  to  him  in 
the  honorable  discharge  of  his  duty,  and  be 
assuming  a  certain  moral  laxity  in  his  nature, 
to  ask  him  to  help  her  in  this  emergency  ?  She 
might  just  as  well  ask  him.  in  as  many  words, 
to  be  false  to  his  queen  and  country  at  once. 

But  then  the  thought  of  her  father  rose  up 
before  her ;  the  days  when  after  her  mother 
died,  and  they  were  traveling  westwards  over 
the  vast  and  seemingly  interminable  prairies 


40  Sinners  Gwain. 

with  the  wagons.  How,  many  a  time,  to  please 
and  soothe  her  to  sleep,  he  would  walk  for 
miles  alongside  the  wagons  with  her  in  his 
arms.  How  he  had  helped  to  nurse  and  tend 
her,  with  all  the  deep-seated  tenderness  and 
devotion  that  his  nature  was  capable  of.  How 
he  would  unbend  from  his  seemingly  austere 
mood,  and  gather  flowers  and  play  with  her  on 
the  prairie  for  hours  together,  so  that  she 
might  not  miss  the  companionship  of  other 
children.  How  her  slightest  wish  seemed  his 
proud  privilege  to  perform.  How  he  had 
nursed  her  through  long  sleepless  nights  of 
illness,  nor  ever  seemed  to  have  but  one  thought 
or  wish,  and  that  for  her.  How  he  had  parted 
with  her,  when  she  had  gone  to  the  convent  on 
the  Saskatchewan,  in  what  she  knew  was  a 
spirit  of  self-sacrifice,  in  order  that  she  might 
not  grow  up  as  ignorant  as  many  of  the  chil- 
dren in  that  great  lone  land.  Even  now,  if 
her  father  had  broken  the  laws  of  the  country, 
something  told  her  it  was  no  mere  greed  of 
gain  on  his  part — personally  he  was  the  most 
unselfish  of  men — that  had  led  him  to  do  this, 
but  that  he  eventually  might  be  able  to  bring 
her  into  a  sphere  of  life  which  would  be  more 
congenial  than  the  present  one,  "  Oh,  father, 
father  ! "  she  repeated  to  herself,  as  the  image 
of  his  kindly,  time-worn  face  rose  up  before  her, 
from  that  wonderful  magic-mirror  of  the  mind, 
and  which  she  knew  and  loved  so  well.  One 
course  lay  open  to  her,  and  she  did  not  hesitate 
to  contemplate  it :  where  only  the  matter  of 
her  own  personal  safety  and  physical  well- 
being  were  concerned.  Her  eyes  were  un- 
dimmed  now ;  rising  she  went  towards  the  win- 
dow and  looked  out. 

"  Do  you  think  we  shall  have  much  of  a 
blizzard  ?  "  she  inquired. 

"  It  is  impossible  to  say,  but  I  hope  not,"  he 
answered. 


"  TWUU  H>ou  fco  as  1f  Want  iJou  ? "     4* 

Then,  as  if  it  were  in  answer  to  some  project 
she  had  just  communicated  to  him,  he  con- 
tinued— 

"  But  you  must  not  think  of  going  out  in 
such  a  storm  ;  you  would  lose  your  way  before 
you  went  sixty  yards,  Besides,  if  the  inspector 
thought  you  meditated  any  such  thing  he 
would  not  scruple  to  put  you  under  some  em- 
barrassing restraints." 

"  Does  that  man  control  my  movements  ?  " 
she  asked,  somewhat  indignantly.  "  The  day 
is  past  when  the  North- West  Mounted  Police 
relegated  to  themselves  rights  that  even  the 
Russian  Police  would  hardly  dare  to  take." 

"  No,"  he  answered,  humbly,  coming  towards 
the  window  and  standing  opposite  her ;  "  but 
you  must  recollect  that  he  is  not  a " 

"  Yes,  I  understand,  and  will  spare  you  the 
pain  of  the  admission." 

"  Thanks.  I  wish  I  could  help  you,"  he 
continued,  "  but  you  can  understand  my  posi- 
tion. I  am  not  blameless  in  my  own  eyes  now, 
telling  you  what  I  have  done." 

Still  he  kept  his  eyes  averted  from  hers,  and 
tried  to  concentrate  his  gaze  upon  the  hurrying 
snow-flakes ;  but  that  was  a  difficult  thing  to 
do. 

And  now  the  girl  nerved  herself  for  her  self- 
imposed  task.  As  if  to  fix  his  attention  she 
placed  one  hand  lightly  upon  his  arm,  and  he 
was  forced  to  look  at  her.  Somehow,  to  him, 
this  seemed  a  natural  and  simple  action  coming 
from  her.  He  knew  it  was  a  dangerous  and 
fatal  thing  for  him  to  look  at  her  ;  but  then  he 
was  in  no  way  different  from  other  men, 
although  he  belonged  to  a  calling  that  is  sup- 
posed to  eliminate  from  its  exercise  anything 
approaching  sentiment.  She  was  a  very  beauti- 
ful girl  indeed  ;  but  whether  it  was  a  sense  of 
pity  for  her,  or  the  witchery  of  her  superior 


42  Sinners  ftwain. 

presence  that  influenced  him,  he  did  not  specu- 
late upon  just  then. 

"  You  will  perhaps  forget  what  I  am  going  to 
say  now,"  she  said,  catching  her  breath 
quickly,  "  if  it  appears  to  you  an  unfair  and 
unwomanly  thing  of  me  to  ask.  Of  course,  I 
have  no  claim  on  your  consideration  whatever, 
but  I  somehow  think  you  would  rather  help  me 
than  otherwise.  I  am  not  going  to  insult  you 
by  asking  you  to  avoid  your  duty  ;  but  I  should 
like  you  to  bear  in  mind  my  position.  You 
must  know  my  father  is  everything  in  this  life 
to  me,  and  I  would  not  think  twice  of  risking 
my  life  in  the  chance  of  saving  his  ;  though  I 
know  he  would  consider  such  a  sacrifice  wasted 
were  I  to  lose  mine.  Perhaps  you  can  under- 
stand this." 

He  did  not  speak,  but  simply  bowed  his 
head. 

She  went  on  again — 

"  I  know  that  wherever  he  is  on  the  prairie 
at  the  present,  he  is  safe  enough — he  has 
weathered  too  many  blizzards.  As  long  as  this 
one  lasts  he  is  safe  enough  from  you  ;  but,  of 
course,  you  know  he  may  pull  in  here  any  time 
it  lifts.  What  I  want  to  ask  of  you  is  that  you 
promise  me  not  to  interfere  with  my  movements 
whenever  the  snow  may  stop.  It  may  be  noth- 
ing to  you  that  I  promise  my  father  shall  never 
offend  again  ;  but  it  shall  be  so.  It  may  not 
be  such  a  very  great  thing  to  ask  of  you  after 
all,  but  it  means  everything  to  me.  Perhaps  I 
might  be  more  certain  of  the  success  of  my 
plans  were  I  to  keep  my  own  counsel ;  but  I 
have  reasons  for  this  step,  and  would  rather 
feel  that  you  were  with  me.  Will  you  do  as  I 
want  you  to  ?  " 

Her  hand  still  rested  lightly,  and  as  if  uncon- 
sciously, upon  his  wrist ;  and  her  touch  seemed 
to  thrill  him  as  no  touch  had  ever  done  before. 


"TKEUU  12ou  Do  as  11  TKHant  Uou?"     43 

At  the  close  of  her  appeal  she  had  withdrawn 
her  eyes  from  his  face,  as  if  she  were  conscious 
of  having  said  more  than  prudence  dictated. 
With  that  great  gleaming  wealth  of  silky  hair 
surrounding  her  beautiful  face  like  an  aureole  : 
watching  the  downward  glance  of  these  deli- 
cately veined  eyelids,  and  with  that  mobile 
face  so  near  to  his,  he  would  have  been  more 
than  human  could  he  have  done  otherwise  than 
he  did.  She  had  thrown  herself  as  it  were 
upon  his  mercy.  She  had  shown  that  she  had 
faith  in  his  natural  goodness  of  heart.  And, 
after  all,  it  was  not  for  herself  she  pleaded, 
but  for  a  father.  She  had  not  asked  him  to  do 
anything  that  was  in  any  way  disgraceful,  she 
had  merely  asked  him,  what  it  was  unnecessary 
for  her  to  have  asked,  not  to  interfere  with  her 
movements  when  the  storm  had  lifted.  Be- 
sides, doubtless  knowing  that  the  inspector  was 
brute  enough  to  lock  two  defenceless  women 
up,  if  he  suspected  that  they  might  spoil  his 
contemplated  seizure,  she  reckoned  that  he,  the 
sergeant,  having  her  confidence,  might  possibly 
dissuade  him  from  any  such  arbitrary  measures. 
But  was  it  necessary  to  ask  his  assistance  at 
all  ?  She  might  have  known  that  with  the 
exception  of  the  inspector  himself  none  of  the 
others  would  have  dreamt  of  interfering  with 
her  movements.  No,  not  even,  perhaps,  if 
they  had  suspected  her  designs.  Could  it  be 
that  on  account  of  their  slight  intimacy  in  the 
past,  she  did  not  wish  to  appear  as  if  stealing  a 
march  on  him  ?  Some  people  had  such  a  fine 
sense  of  honor  as  to  the  relations  between  one 
person  and  another,  even  although  these  rela- 
tions hinged  on  a  matter  of  dubious  principle. 
This  thought,  somehow,  thrilled  him  with  a 
certain  secret  satisfaction. 

Their   eyes  met    for  a  second,  but  neither 
spoke.     Then,  by  an  impulse  that  he   could 


44  Sinners  Gwain. 

hardly  account  for,  the  trooper  performed  a 
good  old-fashioned,  chivalric  action  that  has, 
somehow,  gone  out  of  fashion  in  these  more 
prosaic  modern  times.  He  caught  up  one  of 
her  hands,  and  bowing  his  head  over  it,  lightly 
pressed  it  to  his  lips ;  and  she  knew  that  he 
had  granted  her  request. 

And  then  he  left  the  room  abruptly. 


CHAPTER  V. 

HER  MANY  MOODS. 

WHEN  Marie  was  left  alone,  she  stood  for  a 
long  time  gazing  out  upon  the  blurred  and 
dreary  prospect  that  the  external  world  pre- 
sented. But,  perhaps,  she  never  saw  it,  for 
her  eyes  had  that  far-away  look  that  denotes 
the  mind  to  be  engaged  in  other  than  its  imme- 
diate surroundings.  When  the  trooper  had 
kissed  her  hand  she  had  not  attempted,  nor  in- 
deed did  she  desire,  to  withdraw  it.  She  was 
no  prude,  and  she  interpreted  that  old-time 
action  as  any  other  sensible  girl  would  have  in- 
terpreted it.  Perhaps,  however,  it  might  have 
sent  an  extra  tinge  of  color  into  her  cheek,  and 
a  shyer  and  gladder  light  might  have  dawned 
in  her  eyes.  As  has  been  said,  they  were  beau- 
tiful eyes  at  any  time  ;  but  there  was  a  light  in 
them  now  that  had  not  been  in  them  before. 
Her  spirits  gradually  rose  as  a  certain  definite 
plan  revealed  itself  to  her.  She  felt  as  if  she 
must  occupy  herself  with  something  or  other, 
or  else  her  hectic  spirits  would  break  through 
all  restraints  and  lead  her  into  some  foolishness. 
She  looked  at  the  books  which  the  trooper  had 
placed  upon  the  dresser  for  her.  "  And  I 
never  even  said  '  thank  you '  to  him,"  she  said, 
fearfully,  and  with  a  dawning  sense  of  recollec- 
tion. Then  Jeannette  came  into  the  room,  and 
away  her  quick  thoughts  flew  on  a  new  tack." 

"  Oh,  Jeannette  !  By  the  way,"  she  said,  "  I 
wonder  if  the  police  have  got  their  own  food 
with  them  ?  " 

"  Sure,    sure,    honey.    They    always    carry 


46  Sinners  Gwafn. 

everything  about  with  them.  An  old  police 
hand  can  almost  cook  a  meal  in  the  face  of  a 
blizzard.  But  even  if  they  have  not,  do  you 
think  they  hev'  any  call  on  you  ;  'specially  that 
pig-like  man  with  the  little  gilt  crown  on  the 
collar  of  his  pretty  little  red  coat.  Ouf !  the 
beast !  "  And  old  Jeannette  vigorously  shoved 
a  billet  of  wood  into  the  small  cooking  stove,  as 
if  it  were  the  inspector  she  were  placing  there 
for  cremation.  The  old  lady's  very  decided 
animus  evidently  amused  Marie,  who  con- 
tinued— 

"  But,  Jeannette,  the  others  are  not  like  him  ; 
for  instance,  that  nice  little  fat  man,  Pierre, 
with  the  black,  beady,  twinkling  eyes,  although, 
perhaps,  his  waist  is  not  quite  so  slim  as  one 
could  wish  it  to  be.  And  there  is  that  young 
policeman — such  a  dear,  curly-headed  little  fel- 
low. I  declare  I've  almost  a  mind  to  fall  in 
love  with  him  ;  or  I  wonder  if  I  could  get  him 
to  fall  in  love  with  me?  And  then  the  ser- 
geant  "  here  she  stopped  abruptly,  and  did 

not  say  anything  more  about  him.  But  she 
laughed  almost  gaily  as  she  continued — "  Then, 
Jeannette,  let  us  make  some  pancakes — we've 
lots  of  maple-syrup — and  send  them  into  the 
next  room.  You  know  it  might  possibly  put 
that  dreadful  thing,  whom  you  call  the  "  houki- 
mo,"  into  a  somewhat  better  humor.  I  am 
sure  that  through  the  stomach  is  one  way  of 
reaching  that  sort  of  creature,  anyhow."  And 
Marie  rattled  on  as  if  under  the  influence  of  a 
strong  reaction  of  spirits. 

"  By  the  blessed  Virgin,  and  what  may  be  the 
matter  with  my  honey  ?  "  cried  the  keen-eyed 
Jeannette,  regarding  Marie  wonderingly. 

She  had  never  seen  the  girl  in  such  spirits  be- 
fore. She  had  expected  since  the  arrival  of  the 
police  that  the  girl  would  suddenly  break  down, 
and  that  she — Jeannette— would  have  to  com- 


fjer  dfcang  /fcoofcs.  47 

fort  her,  and  have  to  advance  all  sorts  of  ficti- 
tious hopes  regarding  her  father's  ultimate 
safety.  But  here  she  was  laboring  under  an 
almost  hectic  flow  of  spirits,  and  even  propos- 
ing to  entertain  those  who  were  about  to  bring 
disgrace  and  misery  upon  her  and  hers.  Ma 
fois!  It  was  a  strange  world.  Jeannette,  for 
all  the  years  she  had  lived  in  it,  could  hardly 
understand  it.  Jeannette  belonged  to  that 
lower  order  of  beings  with  whom  the  luxury  of 
nerves  and  their  vagaries  is  supposed  to  be  an 
unknown  quantity.  She  remembered  how,  in 
Old  Fort  Garry,  in  the  gay  old  days  before  the 
Wolseley  Expedition,  when  two  or  three  of  the 
head  officials  in  the  Hudson  Bay  Company's 
service  had  brought  up  their  wives  with  them, 
she  had  taken  service  with  one  of  them.  These 
gay  creatures  of  le  beau  monde  came  from 
Montreal  or  Quebec,  and  had  in  their  time 
even  visited  those  almost  mythical  over-sea 
cities,  London  and  Paris.  Therefore,  their 
manners  and  little  ways  to  the  sturdy  and  sim- 
ple children  of  the  great  North-West  passed  all 
understanding.  She  could  remember  how,  oc- 
casionally— as  if  to  vary  the  monotony  of  their 
lives — whenever  they  happened  to  have  differ- 
erences  of  opinion  with  their  lords  and  masters, 
or  after  laboring  under  any  unusual  mental  ex- 
citement, they  inevitably  resorted  to  one  potent 
and  unanswerable  argument — hysterics.  Could 
Marie's  unwonted  conduct  be  another  form  of 
this  recondite  disease  ?  Jeannette  knew  that 
this  girl's  mother  belonged  to  that  superior 
order  of  beings,  with  whom  the  possession  of 
delicately  strung  nerves  is  an  hereditary  attri- 
bute. This  she  knew  just  as  truly  as  that  the 
girl's  capacity  for  suiting  herself  naturally  to 
such  company  as  chance  threw  in  her  way,  and 
still  showing  that  she  was  supericr  to  it,  was 
another. 


48  Sinners  'Swain. 

Jeannette,  therefore,  in  order  to  counteract 
any  further  development  of  the  symptoms  al- 
ready referred  to,  hastened  to  humor  her  young 
mistress,  and  getting  out  the  flour,  etc.,  pre- 
pared to  make  the  pancakes,  which,  by  the  way, 
is  a  popular  dish  on  the  American  continent. 
She,  however,  resolved  to  keep  an  eye  on  her 
young  mistress,  and  determined  if  that  "  pig- 
like  brute  of  an  officer,"  put  as  much  as  a  foot 
over  the  threshold  of  the  kitchen  to  annoy  her 
young  mistress,  to  find  out  whether  his  head  or 
a  billet  of  wood  were  the  harder.  Upon  this 
point  Jeannette  had  her  doubts. 

As  the  old  woman  indulged  in  these  specu- 
lations there  was  a  knock  at  the  door.  It 
opened,  and  a  buffalo-coated  figure  appeared  in 
the  doorway.  Now,  the  law  of  association  is  a 
powerful  thing,  and  Jeannette's  hand  darted  like 
a  flash  of  lightning  to  the  rolling-pin,  and  her 
lips  framed  that  significant  word,  "  git  !  "  In 
another  second,  Dick  Townley,  the  private, 
would  have  met  with  an  impressive  reception, 
had  not  he  darted  back  in  alarm. 

"  Hold  hard  _  there,  madam  ! "  he  cried  in 

alarm.  "  It's  not  Pudding-head 1  mean  the 

inspector."  "  The  devil  ! "  he  said  to  himself, 
"  what  an  old  firebrand  it  is  to  be  sure." 

"  Oh,  it  is  you,  is  it  ?  Entrez"  cried  old 
Jeannette,  with  an  apologetic  smile  upon  her 
face.  "  Why  did  not  you  say  who  you  were  at 
first  ?  It  would  have  been  a  matter  of  regret 
with  me  if  I  had  caused  the  death  of  one  so 
young." 

The  youth  looked  sheepishly  upon  the  face  of 
Marie,  who  was  sitting  with  her  head  slightly 
thrown  back  and  evidently  much  amused.  In- 
deed, it  would  have  been  a  difficult  matter  for 
any  one  to  have  refrained  from  laughing  at  the 
sight  of  the  young  trooper's  evident  alarm,  on 
his  catching  a  glimpse  of  that  uplifted  arm  and 
rolling-pin. 


•foer  tffcanB  /abooDs.  49 

"  Indeed,  madam,"  said  the  polite  and  talka- 
tive youth  in  answer  to  Jeannette,  "  I  was  not 
aware  that  your  personal  animus  to  my  supe- 
rior officer  was  to  take  such  a  practical  and  for- 
cible expression."  He  paused,  shut  the  door 
behind  him  carefully  as  if  to  prevent  the  sound 
of  their  voices  from  reaching  the  other  room, 
and,  with  an  expressive  grin  upon  his  face,  con- 
tinued in  a  somewhat  lower  voice,  "  And  I  hope 
you  will  let  him  have  it  good  and  hard  when 
you  do  give  it  him.  I  can  assure  you,  it's 
the  only  way  that  any  expression  of  an  absence 
of  sympathy  with  his  style  will  ever  be  brought 
home  to  him." 

He  paused  again,  then  said,  as  if  it  had  only 
suggested  itself  to  him  :  "  But  if  you've  got 
any  oak  or  pine,  use  that — cotton-wood  is  too 
soft,  and  would  make  no  impression.  You  see, 
it's  difficult  to  believe  how  thick  that  man's  skull 
is." 

And  now  he  seemed  somewhat  diffident,  and 
his  eyes  wandered  round  the  room.  Then,  as  if 
he  had  found  what  he  wanted,  he  caught  up  the 
two  empty  buckets  and  hurried  out  again. 

"  Good  boy  ;  gone  to  fetch  some  water,"  ex- 
plained Jeannette. 

"  What  a  nice  face  ;  and  what  a  beautiful  curly 
head  of  hair  he  has,"  said  the  girl  abstractedly. 
She  was  in  a  dangerous  mood  now  ;  for  it  is  a 
remarkable  pyschological  paradox,  that  it  is 
often  the  most  likely  and  the  soberest  individuals 
who,  on  occasions,  do  and  say  the  maddest  and 
most  incomprehensible  things.  "  But  he  seems 
rather  self-conscious,"  she  continued,  "  and  as 
if  he  were  almost  afraid  of  a  girl.  I  wonder  if 
he  has  ever  kissed  one.  Jeannette,  you  won't 
look,  will  you,  if  I  kiss  him  ?  " 

"  Pardonnez  mot,  Jeannette.  Do,  like  a  good 
soul,  go  into  the  next  room  for  only  half  a  min- 
ute, and  just  give  her  a  chance." 


KP")  Sinners  Gvvain, 

And  to  the  horror  and  confusion  of  poor  Marie, 
the  youthful  trooper — who  had  been  in  the  pas- 
sage all  the  time  pulling  on  his  mitts — again  put 
his  head  into  the  room,  and  smiled  in  a  fashion 
that  was  hardly  in  accordance  with  the  diffidence 
with  which  he  was  accredited.  Marie  fairly  put 
her  hands  up  to  hide  her  face,  which,  judging 
from  the  color  that  had  mounted  into  her  beauti- 
ful throat  and  neck,  must  have  been  of  a  tell  tale 
crimson.  She  had  never  before  in  her  life  made 
such  a  bold  speech  ;  and  it  seemed,  to  her  inno- 
cent mind,  as  if  it  were  a  special  dispensation  of 
Providence  that  she  should  be  caught  in  the  very 
act  of  making  it,  and  covered  with  confusion. 

As  for  Jeannette  her  suspicions  were  con- 
firmed. Her  dear  and  modest  mistress  had  con- 
tracted that  mysterious  disease  which  she  had 
seen,  in  another  form,  compel  high-born  dames 
to  throw  about  china  ornaments,  to  use  absurd 
and  incomprehensible  language,  and  generally 
misconduct  themselves.  To  think  that  this 
poor  girl,  whom  she  had  hardly  ever  before  heard 
mention  the  name  of  a  man,  should  actually 
talk  about  forcibly  kissing  one,  was  something 
that  almost  took  away  her  breath.  Or,  could  it 
be  that  her  knowledge  of  the  double  risk  and 
danger  her  father  ran  just  then  had  temporarily 
unhinged  her  reason  ?  She— Jeannette— would 
look  up  that  bag  of  Indian  medicinal  roots  and 
herbs,  which  she  resorted  to  in  cases  of  emer- 
gency, and  would  probably  find  some  potent 
medicine,  which  would  counteract  and  arrest  the 
progress  of  the  disease,  for  such  she  regarded 
it. 

So  far  as  the  youthful  member  of  the  police 
force  himself  was  concerned,  who  had  been  the 
innocent  cause  of  all  the  trouble,  he  was  the  least 
concerned  of  the  three.  It  would  have  rather 
surprised  the  two  women  and  added  to  their 
peace  of  mind,  could  they  have  known  that 
this  not-so-bashful-as-he-appeared-to-be  young 


t)cr  /fcan^  fl&oo&s. 


man,  was  in  no  way  shocked  by  the  unblushing 
declaration  of  poor  Marie.  For  had  he  not  in 
his  time  been  in  the  company  of  jolly,  light- 
hearted,  and,  perhaps,  not  a  little  mischievously 
inclined  English  girls,  who  had  not  only  threat- 
ened to  kiss  him  (not  under  the  mistletoe  either), 
but  had  actually  done  it  too.  And  he  had  not 
thought  much  about  it  either  ;  for  he  had  been 
one  of  those  enviable  ones  who,  for  certain 
reasons  being  made  much  of,  grow  accustomed 
to  attentions  that  would  turn  the  heads  of  less 
favored  individuals,  and  who  even  come  to  look 
upon  such  attentions  as  theirs  by  natural  right. 
Therefore,  the  diffidence  of  this  ingenuous  youth 
was  indeed  a  refreshing  thing,  and  often  sur- 
prised the  unsophisticated.  But  his  halcyon 
days  in  the  old  country  had  been  all  too  brief  ; 
for,  like  many  more  younger  sons  of  younger 
sons,  he  had  been  packed  off  to  Manitoba  to 
learn  farming.  There,  finding  the  task  of 
expostulating  with  perverse  oxen,  and  milking 
deceitful  cows,  hardly  the  idyllic  and  congenial 
employment  he  had  imagined  it  to  be,  he  had, 
like  many  more  of  his  kind,  drifted  into  the 
ranks  of  the  North-West  Mounted  Police,  there 
to  moralize  with  kindred  spirits  over  "  joys  de- 
parted never  to  return." 

And  now,  as  he  went  to  the  covered  well,  he 
bowed  his  head  to  the  icy  blast.  "  By  Jove," 
he  said  to  himself,  "  who  would  have  dreamt  of 
seeing  a  girl  like  that  in  this  God-forsaken  part 
of  the  world  ?  But  she's  only  like  all  the  rest 
of  them.  The  girl  who  looks  as  if  she  were 
thinking  of  heaven  all  the  time,  and  who  you 
think  only  requires  a  pair  of  wings  to  make  her 
an  angel,  is,  probably,  thinking  of  nothing 
higher  than  man's  gullibility,  and  wondering  if 
the  right  chap  will  have  sand  enough  to  come 
forward  at  the  right  time.  But  I'll  have  that 
kiss  yet  in  spite  of  the  old  lady." 

But  he  did  not  have  that  kiss. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

HIS  DEAD   SELF. 

THE  blizzard  raged  for  two  days.  The  snow 
then  ceased  falling,  but  the  fierce  wind  hurried 
the  dry,  powdery,  crystalline  flakes  along  over 
the  exposed  and  far-stretching  prairie  in  one 
dense  and  cloud-like  sheet,  making  it  impossi- 
ble for  any  one  to  see  five  yards  ahead.  And 
still  it  was  a  paradoxical  thing,  when  one  came 
to  think  of  it,  that  the  sun  shone  brilliantly 
down  all  the  time,  and  lit  up  that  ghostly  but 
tangible  atmosphere  of  snow,  till  it  became 
instinct  with  rings  of  prismatic  coloring,  and 
sparkled  as  if  it  were  a  shower  of  fine  diamonds. 
This  is,  perhaps,  the  one  great  redeeming  feat- 
ure in  this  great  lone  land  in  the  long  winter- 
time. What,  indeed,  may  be  said  to  give  it  a 
life  peculiarly  its  own  :  for  were  there  no  shad- 
ing in  Nature's  pictures,  then  would  the  com- 
parative effects  of  light  and  color  be  meaning- 
less. No  matter  how  the  blizzard  rages,  no 
matter  how  the  quicksilver  sinks  in  the  thermo- 
meter— 30°,  40°,  50°  below  zero — and  over  the 
silent  and  illimitable  stretches  of  snow-clad, 
wind-swept  prairie  Jack  Frost  securely  reigns, 
the  all-enlivening  and  encircling  sun  generally 
shines  down  uninterruptedly  from  a  cloudless 
sky  through  it  all.  Ghastly  and  desolate  indeed 
would  be  that  ocean-like  surface  of  rolling 
prairie  without  its  cheering  rays  :  a  shipless  sea 
in  a  region  of  eternal  twilight  would  not  be 
more  weirdly  melancholy. 

In  Gabriel  St.  Denis'  room  the  officer,  the 
sergeant,  the  private,  and  the  scout  passed  the 


1bts  Dead  Self,  S3 

time  as  they  best  could.  The  officer  and  the 
scout  had,  doubtless,  the  best  of  the  situation. 
The  first  mentioned  was  so  happily  constituted 
by  nature  that  he  never  felt  the  leaden  wings  of 
Time.  He  could,  like  a  thought-reader,  when 
he  wishes  to  receive  an  impression  or  a  brain- 
wave, allow  his  mind  to  become  a  perfect 
blank,  in  which  he  existed  in  an  almost  trance- 
like  state.  Generally  speaking,  this  was  Jamie's 
normal  condition;  only  it  needed  no  great 
exercise  of  will  power  on  his  part  to  arrive  at 
this  happy  state :  there  were  seldom  any 
thoughts  to  get  rid  of  in  his  brain.  And  as  for 
receiving  impressions — unless  they  were  un- 
pleasant ones — it  would  have  required  more 
than  the  hypothetical  surgical  operation  asso- 
ciated with  Scotsmen  to  inoculate  him  with  one. 
It  would  have  required  some  violent  shock  to 
the  system — something  of  the  nature  of  wood 
or  iron  brought  in  forcible  contact  with  his 
bullet-like  head — to  arouse  in  him  the  faintest 
suspicion  of  intellectual  activity.  He  would 
lie  on  his  back,  stretched  on  a  buffalo-robe  in 
front  of  the  stove,  for  hours  at  a  stretch,  and 
gaze  vacantly  at  the  ceiling.  The  only  part  of 
the  day  in  which  he  seemed  to  evince  any 
interest  was  meal-time. 

On  the  day  of  their  coming  the  scout  had 
been  summoned  to  the  kitchen  by  Jeannette 
shortly  after  mid-day,  and  coming  back  he  had 
spread  the  table  with  a  snow-white  cloth,  and 
brought  in,  much  to  Jamie's  surprise  and 
delight,  a  dish  of  hot  potatoes,  some  cold  veni- 
son, a  dish  of  steaming  and  juicy  bear-steaks, 
and  a  large  dish  of  pancakes  with  maple  syrup. 
On  this  occasion  Jamie  showed  signs  of  return- 
ing consciousness  such  as  he  had  never  before 
been  seen  to  exhibit.  Moreover,  he  was  heard 
to  exclaim  as  he  rubbed  his  hands  together, 
"  Well,  I'm  darned  !  "  After  this  mental  feat, 


54  Sinners  Swain. 

and  for  the  next  twenty  minutes,  his  mouth  was 
too  full  to  permit  of  his  entertaining  the  com- 
pany with  any  further  exhibitions  of  his  conver- 
sational powers.  They  all  sat  down  at  the 
same  table  together ;  for  on  the  prairie  this  is 
the  usual  way.  The  meal  passed  in  compara- 
tive silence  ;  the  sergeant  seemed  to  be  en- 
grossed with  his  own  thoughts,  the  officer's — if 
he  had  any — were  concentrated  upon  the  bear- 
steaks,  and  the  youthful  trooper  and  the  scout 
soon  allowed  the  light  and  cheerful  tone  of 
banter,  in  which  they  had  at  first  indulged,  to 
gradually  subside.  For  the  sight  of  their 
officer's  face  had  a  depressing  effect.  At  last 
the  latter  could  eat  no  more,  and  rising  from 
the  table  left  the  room  to  have  a  look  at  the 
horses  in  the  stable. 

A  stable  was  to  Jamie  what  a  drawing-room 
would  have  been  to  one  of  his  more  civilized 
brother  officers.  He  felt,  literally,  at  home  in 
the  stable :  the  absence  of  conventionality 
there,  and  something  in  its  very  odor  suggested 
congenial  environment.  He  was  in  the  habit 
of  spending  many  hours,  when  he  could  man- 
age it,  with  a  straw  in  his  mouth  surveying  the 
equine  race.  He  felt  perfectly  at  ease  in  the 
company  of  horses. 

On  the  occasion  referred  to,  when  he  had 
left  the  room,  Dick  Townley,  the  private,  laid 
down  his  knife  and  fork,  and  for  a  few  mo- 
ments indulged  in  a  quiet  laugh.  The  ser- 
geant asked  him  what  was  amusing  him. 

"  I  wonder,  when  he's  in  the  mess-room  at 
Regina,"  said  the  youth,  referring  to  his  de- 
parted superior,  "  if  he  eats  with  his  knife  as  he 
does  here,  dips  his  fingers  into  the  salt-cellars, 
and,  otherwise,  does  so  many  extraordinary 
things?  But  I  have  forgotten — he  is  a  mar- 
ried man,  so  don't  suppose  he  will  often  honor 
the  mess  with  his  presence." 


Di3  2>eaD  Self.  55 

"  You  bet  your  boots,"  chimed  in  the  little 
scout,  who  prided  himself  upon  his  superior 
manners  ;  "  when  I  down  in  Regina  was  once, 
the  waiter  in  the  officer's  mess  did  in  confidence 
communicate  to  me  that  on  one  occasion  when 
Monsieur  was  dining  in  the  mess — the  Commis- 
sioner and  a  number  of  guests  were  there — he 
spilt  his  potage  all  over  the  table,  used  his  fin- 
gers a  la  fourchette,  and  when  those — finger 
glasses  I  believe  it  is  you  will  call  them — were 
brought  in,  he  did  stare  upon  them,  and  asked 
if  there  was  going  to  be  a  christening  match. 
Mon  Dieu — these  are  pancakes  magntfique. " 

"  Oh,  come  now,  you  fellows,"  said  the  ser- 
geant who,  however,  could  not  conceal  a  smile ; 
"  your  talk  is  of  a  highly  treasonable  nature. 
Why  can't  you  leave  your  superior  officer  alone  ? 
By  the  way,  we  must  not  allow  those  women 
to  send  in  food  like  this  to  us.  It  makes  me 
feel  horribly  ashamed  when  I  think  of  their 
kindness,  considering  our  errand  here ;  but,  as 
the  boss  won't  think  of  thanking  them,  I  shall 
go  in  and  do  so  myself  later  on.  I  wonder  if 
we  could  annex  a  cross-cut  saw  somewhere  ;  I 
don't  believe  in  burning  other  people's  fire- 
wood for  nothing ;  but  I  noticed  an  out-house 
at  the  back,  perhaps  we  could  get  a  few  logs 
into  it,  and  cut  up  sufficient  wood  for  the  whole 
lot  of  us.  In  the  meantime,  I'm  going  out  to 
look  after  their  cattle  in  the  corral.  I  wonder 
if  they  have  any  water  in  their  buckets  in  the 
next  room  ;  you  might  just  go  in  and  see,  Pierre. 
I  wonder  which  of  the  women  made  these 
pancakes — they  are  superb  ?  " 

Here  Dick  Townley  said — without  looking 
up,  however,  "You  needn't  bother,  Pierre.  I 
filled  their  buckets  some  little  time  ago." 

"  Indeed  !  that  was  thoughtful  of  you,"  said 
the  sergeant,  somewhat  surprised,  and  with  an 
impenetrable  smile. 


56  Sinners  {Twain. 

"  Why,  what  are  you  grinning  at,  Yorke  ?  " 
pursued  the  irreverent  youngster,  with  not  a 
little  annoyance  showing  in  his  voice.  "  Can't  a 
fellow  carry  a  bucket  or  two  of  water  for  a  wo- 
man, without  you  seeing  something  funny  in 
it?" 

"  Oh,  certainly,  certainly  ;  keep  your  coat  on, 
my  boy,"  was  the  answer,  still  with  that  odd 
smile.  "  I  might  have  known  that  some  one 
would  be  gallant  enough  to  render  a  service  in 
that  direction.  But  you  haven't  told  me  what 
you  think  of  Mademoiselle  St.  Denis  yet,  Dick. 
Don't  you  think  a  girl  is  bound  to  vegetate  in 
such  a  place  ?  " 

Now,  Dick  Townley  had  no  particular  desire 
to  discuss  the  merits  of  this  girl  with  his  com- 
rade :  he  had,  somehow,  not  thought  the  latter 
had  sufficient  interest  in  the  fair  sex  to  con- 
verse intelligibly  on  such  a  momentous  subject. 
His  first  impression,  when  he  had  seen  Marie 
St.  Denis,  had  been  one  of  surprise  and  admir- 
ation at  discovering  such  a  rara  avis  in  such  an 
unlikely  place.  Certainly  he  had  heard  rumors 
regarding  her  good  looks ;  but  had  ascribed 
them  to  the  usual  delusive  talk  peculiar  to 
Mounted  Policemen,  who,  in  their  isolated  posi- 
tion by  a  law  of  Nature,  take  every  bird  to  be  a 
jay,  and  the  plainest-featured  woman  the  per- 
sonification of  female  loveliness.  Moreover, 
after  the,  to  him,  flattering  speech  he  had  over- 
heard the  girl  give  utterance  to,  he  had  resolved 
to  cultivate  her  acquaintance.  Being  only  hu- 
man, and  not  wanting  in  worldly  wisdom,  he 
had  refrained  from  openly  expressing  his  admir- 
ation of  her,  in  case  his  superior  might  take  it 
into  his  head  to  step  in  before  him  and  spoil  a 
projected  and  agreeable  flirtation.  It  was, 
therefore,  with  not  a  little  surprise  he  heard  his 
usually  reticent  comrade  ask  him  for  his  opin- 
ion of  the  girl.  The  ingenuous  youth  felt  flat- 


•fcis  Dead  Self.  & 

tered,  and  replied  with  an  air  of  superior 
knowledge  of  the  subject  in  question. 

"Well,  Yorke,"  he  said,  "  since  you've  asked 
me  for  my  opinion  I'll  give  it  you.  I  believe 
that  girl's  a  brick,  a  regular  little  brick,  and  as 
good  as  she's  good-looking.  I  don't  mean  to 
say  either  that  she's  one  of  your  milk-and-water 
sort ;  because,  I  believe,  she's  just  as  fond  of  a 
lark  as  any  other  girl.  But  where  and  how  she 
has  picked  up  her  manners  and  style  gets  over 
me — why,  she  would  pass  muster  as  a  lady  any 
day.  I  would  not  be  surprised  if  there  was  a 
drop  of  good  blood  in  her.  She  talks  beauti- 
fully, and  from  her  hands  and  feet  to  her  teeth 
and  eyes  there  is  not  one  faulty  point  about  her. 
So  far  as  dress  goes,  though  she  is  simplicity 
itself,  in  those  dainty  little  white  collars  and 
cuffs  of  hers  there  are  infinite  possibilities.  To 
use  a  rather  hackneyed  phrase  she  is  '  a  prairie 
rose. '  '  But  the  flowers  that  bloom  in  the 
Spring  tra-la,  have  nothing  to  do  with  the 
case.'  "  And  as  if  to  divert  attention  from  his 
rather  eulogistic  and  somewhat  rambling  opin- 
ion, he  broke  out  into  a  well-known  Gilbertian 
rhyme. 

The  sergeant  looked  out  of  the  window  for  a 
minute,  and  smiled  grimly.  Then,  as  if  impelled 
to  say  something,  he  said,  in  a  tone  that  was 
meant  to  conveyed  an  impression  of  half-heart- 
edness  in  the  subject,  but  was  of  a  peculiar 
dryness  and  significance — 

"  And  so  she  is  a  regular  little  brick,  is  she  ? 
and  she  is  fond  of  a  lark  ?  In  fact,  as  our  su- 
perior officer  would  characteristically  put  it,  she 
has  several  good  points  in  her  general  get-up. 
By  Jove,  Dick,  she  would  feel  flattered,  I'm 
sure,  if  she  could  only  hear  your  estimate  of 
her.  As  for  there  being  a  strain  of  good 
'  blood  '  in  her  as  you  remark — why,  hang  it, 
man  " — and  he  turned  suddenly  from  the  win- 


58  Sinners 

dow  and  faced  the  somewhat  surprised  youth, — 
"  talking  about  blood,  did  some  of  the  names 
that  even  these  half-breeds  have  in  this  country 
never  strike  you  ?  Don't  you  know  that,  gener- 
ally speaking,  and  in  comparison  with  their 
numbers,  there  are  more  representatives  of  a  no- 
ble and  historical  aristocracy  in  Canada  than 
there  are  in  France  ?  though  some  of  them  are 
humble  and  poor  enough  now,  goodness  only 
knows.  Now,  just  listen  to  a  few  of  the  names 
you  meet  with  in  this  country — names  that  peo- 
ple have  grown  so  familiar  with,  that  no  one 
attaches  any  significance  to  them :  St.  Denis, 
St.  Cloud,  St.  Arnaud,  La  Fontaine,  L'Esper- 
ance,  St.  Croix,  Xavier,  and  many  others  Why, 
the  forefathers  of  some  of  those  people  our 
parvenus  hardly  know  were  noblemen  long 
before  William  the  Conqueror  took  a  trip  over 
to  Anglia.  As  to  who  her  mother  was  I  neither 
know  nor  care.  Jeannette,  however,  says  she 
came  of  good  stock.  But  while  we  are  on  this 
subject,  don't  misunderstand  me ;  if  the  girl's 
name  were  Smith  or  Robinson  she  might  still 
be  every  whit  as  much  of  a  lady  as  she  is  now 
— the  '  rank  is  but  the  guinea  stamp,'  after  all, 
and  is  too  often  put  on  deuced  inferior  metal. 
But,  since  you  are  on  this  racket,  I  may  say 
she  bears  a  name  that  is  as  good  as,  if  not  better 
than,  most  borne  by  our  English  aristocracy  ; 
and  you  ad  vance  the  speculation  that  she  has 
a  drop  of  good  blood  !  " 

He  stopped  abruptly  and  laughed  in  a  silent 
and  significant  fashion.  Then  he  continued,  as 
if  arguing  the  matter  out  with  himself — 

"  No ;  the  race  that  took  a  score  of  genera- 
tions to  develop  hereditive  traits  and  patrician 
graces  cannot  have  altered  so  much  in  two  or 
three  generations,  even  although  the  lot  of  the 
latter  has  been  a  hand-to-hand  struggle  with 
adverse  circumstances  in  a  strange,  new  country, 
and  with  stern  surroundings." 


Ibis  2>eaD  Self.  59 

Then,  as  if  conscious  that  he  had  betrayed  a 
little  more  interest  and  warmth  in  his  treatment 
of  the  subject  than  there  was  any  occasion  for, 
he  added,  with  rather  a  feeble  laugh — 

"  But  all  this  is  unimportant,  and  I  don't 
care  a  rap  for  one  woman  more  than  for  another. 
But  at  the  same  time,  I  can't  help  thinking  it  is 
a  confounded  shame  of  old  St.  Denis  to  tempt 
Providence,  and  bring  disgrace  upon  the  girl 
as  he  is  doing,  knowing  that  she  is  breaking  her 
heart  over  it  all  the  time.  There  is  nothing  of 
the  money  grub  about  her  that  there  is  about 
the  father ;  she  is  good  hearted,  sensitive  and 
proud,  and,  by  Jove,  she  has  got  the  right  metal 
in  her,  too !  I  never  saw  Jamie  get  such  a 
complete  taking  down  before,  not  even  when 
the  late  Assistant  Commissioner  snubbed  him 
in  the  Orderly  Room  for  trying  to  bully  a  cor- 
poral." 

And  here  he  broke  off  in  what,  for  him,  was 
an  unusually  long  speech,  and  lit  his  pipe.  He 
was  unpleasantly  conscious  of  the  fact  that  his 
talk  was  becoming  of  a  rather  wild  and  per- 
sonal nature.  He  was  also  aware  of  the  fact, 
that  by  saying  he  did  not  care  for  one  woman 
more  than  for  another,  he  spoke  as  if  he  had 
been  charged  with  so  doing,  when,  indeed, 
nobody  had  dreamt  of  hinting  at  such  a  thing. 
But  now  the  ill-concealed  look  of  surprise  and 
significant  silence  of  his  comrade  brought  it 
home  to  him  that  he  had  betrayed  an  interest 
in  Marie  St.  Denis  which  he  wished  to  avoid 
expressing,  far  less  feel. 

But  there  is  no  royal  immunity  granted  from 
the  promptings  of  the  human  heart.  Artificial 
surroundings  and  conventionalities  may  shield 
us  from  many  wayward  longings  ;  but  give  the 
princess  an  opportunity  of  recognizing  an  affin- 
ity in  the  person  of  the  plebeian  :  then,  all  the 
laws  and  philosophy  of  Man  that  ever  have 


60  Sinners 

been,  or  may  be,  brought  to  bear  in  assisting  to 
destroy  the  attachment  so  mysteriously  formed, 
cannot  and  never  shall  remove  that  unseen  but 
potent  bond  that  knits  together  two  kindred 
souls.  But  there  was  no  one  going  to  interfere 
between  Harry  Yorke  and  any  one  whom  he 
should  chance  to  feel  attracted  by,  unless, 
indeed,  the  impediments  were  of  his  own  making. 
But  he  made  a  common  mistake  in  supposing 
that  his  own  particular  past,  and  its  experiences, 
would  make  him  proof  against  all  emotional 
promptings  in  the  future.  His  had  been  a  nat- 
ural enough,  if  not  a  common  experience.  He 
had  been  brought  up  to  better  things  than  his 
station  in  life  would  now  have  indicated.  He 
had  enjoyed  his  brief  but  bright  existence,  as  a 
man  of  fashion  and  pleasure,  while  it  had  lasted. 
But  evil  days,  which  come  to  most  of  us, 
came  to  him,  and  the  only  thing  that  would 
have  saved  him  from  ruin— marriage  with  a 
rich  but  proud  girl — he  had  not  the  courage  to 
essay.  He  told  himself,  and  truly,  that  had  he 
remained  in  his  former  independent  position  he 
would  undoubtedly  have  asked  her  to  marry 
him,  even  although  she  could  show  a  sovereign 
for  every  shilling  he  could.  But  what  other 
construction  could  the  world  possibly  put  on  his 
conduct  if  he  asked  her  to  marry  him,  now  that 
he  was  penniless,  that  it  was  purely  sordid  and 
mercenary  ?  And  what  would  the  girl  herself 
think  ?  Perhaps,  about  this  time,  he  began  to 
regret  that  he  had  let  so  many  golden  oppor- 
tunities slip ;  for  he  had  really  admired  her. 
But  it  was  too  late :  his  pride  was  too  strong 
for  him,  and  he  had  left  England  without  as 
much  as  saying  good-by.  In  six  months'  time 
he  heard  that  the  heiress  was  married,  and 
inconsistently  he  jeered  at  woman's  inconsist- 
ency. Perhaps  he  did  not  know  that  the 
woman,  whom  in  particular  he  jeered  at,  had 


Dig  DeaD  Self.  61 

hailed  at  first  with  almost  satisfaction  the  news 
of  his  ruined  prospects  ;  for  she  had  thought  the 
gay  world  would  not  have  the  same  hold  on 
him,  and  she  might  win  a  fuller  share  of  his 
affections — indeed,  she  had  been  ready  and  wait- 
ing to  accept  him  if  he  only  brought  a  moiety 
of  that  desired  love  for  her,  and  nothing  else. 
She  would  win  it  all  in  time.  But,  perhaps, 
she  had  not  understood  him.  She  gave  him 
every  encouragement  and  sign  of  her  preference 
consistent  with  a  woman's  modesty  and  self- 
respect.  But  his  overweening  pride  had 
blinded  him,  and  he  could  not  see  things  in  their 
proper  light.  In  an  impulsive  spirit,  born  of 
mortification  and  pique,  she  had  married.  For 
some  years,  doubtless,  his  attitude  towards 
women  had  been  of  a  reprehensible  and  cynical 
nature.  But,  latterly,  a  more  rational  spirit  had 
come  to  him,  and  he  had  seen  clearly  enough 
that  he,  and  not  the  woman,  had  been  in  the 
wrong.  But  the  experience  had  influenced 
him;  perhaps,  not  for  the  better  in  a  worldly 
point  of  view,  for  it  had  deadened  ambition  in 
him,  and  caused  him  to  pass  through  life  as  if 
his  highest  object  in  it  were  merely  the  acquir- 
ing of  strange  and  novel  experiences.  He 
thought  he  had  done  with  the  one  great 
experience  of  life.  He  was  not  aware  of  the 
fact  that  he  had  deluded  himself,  and  that  he 
had  not  really  loved  :  for  if  he  had,  he  would 
either  have  married  the  heiress  and  snapped  his 
fingers  at  what  the  world  might  think,  or  else  he 
would  not  have  tamely  submitted  to  a  sup- 
posititious inevitable,  without  making  some 
endeavor  to  overcome  it. 

Doubtless,  the  dawning  of  the  truth  upon 
him  by  the  awakening  of  a  feeling  that  he  had 
not  dreamt  himself  capable  of,  brought  home 
the  accusation  to  him,  that  in  his  concentration 
on  self  he  had  caused  others  to  suffer.  The  natu- 


62  Sinners  Swain. 

ral  laws  of  retributive  justice  may  be  slow,  but 
they  are  sure.  In  the  dawn  of  a  new  life  that 
he  struggled  against,  he  was  haunted  by  the 
upbraiding  shadows  of  an  old  one. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

AN    UNCONSCIOUS   PRECEPTOR. 

A  COUPLE  of  days  had  passed,  the  snow-laden 
winds  still  blew  fiercely,  and  the  police  party 
were  kept  close  prisoners  in  St.  Denis'  ranche. 
As  for  the  inspector,  he  continued  to  enjoy  long 
spells  of  mental  abstraction,  lying  on  his  buffalo- 
robe  on  the  floor  before  the  stove,  with  his 
eyes  fixed  upon  the  ceiling.  At  long  intervals, 
when  he  recognized  the  necessity  of  varying 
this  species  of  entertainment,  he  would  adjourn 
to  the  stable,  where,  sticking  a  straw  in  his 
mouth,  he  would  keep  the  horses  company  for 
half  an  hour  at  a  stretch.  It  was  a  redeeming 
point  in  his  character  that  he  seemed  fond  of 
animals.  "  A  fellow  feeling  makes  us  wondrous 
kind."  Surely  Nature  made  a  mistake  when 
she  gave  Jamie  some  semblance  of  a  man  ;  had 
she,  for  instance,  made  him  a  donkey — a  four- 
legged  one,  of  course — he  might  have  posed  as 
her  supreme  masterpiece. 

As  for  the  sergeant,  he  seemed  strangely  ill 
at  ease.  He  could  not  settle  to  read.  The 
friendly  little  wordy  spars  between  his  youthful 
comrade  and  the  cheery  little  scout  seemed  to 
have  lost  all  attraction  for  him ;  and  as  for  in- 
dulging in  conversation  with  his  superior  officer, 
as  they  had  not  two  ideas  in  common,  that  was 
not  to  be  thought  ofl  The  mere  fact  that  the 
officer  was  comparatively  uneducated  would 
not  have  mattered  in  itself,  but  Jamie,  having 
by  contact  with  his  brother  officers  become 
aware  of  his  deficiencies,  dreaded  to  expose  his 
ignorance  more  than  he  could  help.  Moreover, 


64  Sinnere  Gwafn. 

being  of  a  jealous  nature,  he  imagined  that 
when  an  educated  man  talked  to  him  it  was 
simply  for  the  purpose  of  mystifying  and  ridi- 
culing him.  His  normal  condition,  therefore, 
when  with  his  intellectual  superiors,  was  like  a 
bear  with  a  sore  head.  Jamie,  however,  would 
probably  have  liked  to  go  into  the  other  room, 
and  to  see  a  little  more  of  that  interesting  girl 
whom  he  had  honored  so  openly  by  expressions 
of  his  admiration.  But  having  heard  the  cun- 
ning little  scout  whisper  to  the  private  (as  if  he 
feared  being  overheard),  that  the  dipper  still  re- 
mained full  of  boiling  water  upon  the  stove  in 
the  next  room,  he  lost  all  interest  in  the  girl, 
and  came  to  the  conclusion  that  to  talk  to  one 
in  her  position  was  derogatory  to  the  dignity  of 
an  officer  of  the  North- West  Mounted  Police 
force. 

The  others  had  sawn  and  cut  up  sufficient 
firewood  to  last  the  little  household  for  a  month, 
and  stacked  it  neatly  in  one  of  the  out-houses. 
They  had  kept  the  buckets  full  of  water,  thrown 
down  some  hay  for  the  few  head  of  cattle  in  the^ 
corral,  and  done  other  necessary  work  about  the[. 
place.  Indeed,  in  pure  gallantry,  Dick  Townley"5 
in  spite  of  the  protestations  and  warnings  of 
Marie  St.  Denis  (whom  he  seemed  very  anxious 
to  favor  with  his  attentions),  would  insist  on 
one  occasion  on  milking  a  certain  cow,  which 
the  girl  warned  him  though  quiet  enough  gen- 
erally, would  probably  resent  the  ministrations 
of  a  stranger.  But  the  polite  youth  scouted  the 
idea,  and  taking  the  pail  from  her  hand  started 
in  to  milk.  When  he  picked  himself  up  a  few 
seconds  later  in  a  dirty  and  dazed  condition 
from  the  neighborhood  of  the  opposite  wall, 
and  wondered  where  his  cap  and  the  pail  had 
got  to,  he  wisely  concluded  that  it  was  a  mis- 
take, and  benea'th  the  dignity  of  a  Mounted 
Policeman  to  associate  himself  in  any  shape  or 


Bit  "dnconsctous  preceptor.         65 

form  with  such  an  ungrateful  and  stupid  animal 
as  a  cow. 

The  sergeant  on  the  afternoon  of  the  second 
day,  as  if  he  could  endure  his  own  company  no 
longer,  had  left  his  comrades  amusing  them- 
selves according  to  their  several  ideas,  and  be- 
took himself  to  the  next  room.  Marie  St.  Denis 
looked  up  from  the  book  she  was  reading,  and 
there  was  a  quick  and  pleased  recognition  on 
her  face  as  she  saw  who  the  visitor  was ;  so 
perhaps,  after  all,  there  was  no  necessity  for  ex- 
pressing it  in  words.  Old  Jeannette  motioned 
him  a  chair  near  the  stove,  and  told  him  to  sit 
down.  The  thoughtful  and  helpful  ways  of  the 
troopers  had  commended  themselves  to  her ; 
and,  moreover,  when  she  considered  that  they 
were  under  the  absolute  authority  of  her  pet 
antipathy,  the  inspector,  her  sympathetic  nature 
regarded  them  with  a  great  pity. 

"  I  see  you  have  still  got  the  inspector's  shav- 
ing water  on  the  stove,  Jeannette,"  said  the  ser- 
geant, cheerily. 

"Sure,  sure,"  said  the  old  lady,  "and  the 
skunk  will  have  it  yet  if  he  puts  as  much  as  his 
nose  inside  the  door." 

The  girl  had  laid  aside  her  book  and  was 
looking  into  the  stove.  Her  two  hands  were 
folded  on  her  lap  in  front  of  her  ;  through  the 
mica  slats  in  the  stove  the  ruddy  firelight 
gleamed  and  flickered  upon  her  characteristi- 
cally beautiful  face  and  figure :  she  made  a 
pretty  picture.  Then  she  gazed  abstractedly  at 
the  glimmering  of  some  of  old  Jeannette's  bur- 
nished culinary  appliances  as  they  hung  against 
the  opposite  wall ;  but  she  seemed  diffident  in 
regard  to  looking  at  her  visitor.  He,  again, 
scrutinized  her  thoughtfully  for  a  few  minutes 
without  speaking.  He  noted  the  erect  and 
beautiful  poise  of  her  head  upon  these  graceful 
shoulders,  the  smallness  and  faultless  symmetry 


66  Sinners  {Twain. 

of  her  hands  and  feet,  her  clearly  cut  and  ex- 
pressive features,  that  faint  suspicion  of  the 
sun's  kiss  on  her  soft  cheek,  and  the  simple 
perfection  of  her  plain,  dark,  close-fitting  dress, 
only  relieved  by  the  dainty  white  cuffs  and  col- 
lar. Hers  was  not  merely  a  physically  beauti- 
ful face,  but  it  was  an  intellectually  beautiful 
one ;  and  not  mere  cold  intellectuality — for  in- 
tellect, in  itself,  is  a  cold  thing — but  there  was 
in  it  that  indefinable  something  that  defies 
analysis — that  which  men  try  to  express  when 
they  use  the  word  "soul." 

"  What  have  you  been  reading  ?  "  he  asked 
her  at  length. 

"  An  Australian  story,"  she  answered  ;  "  per- 
haps hardly  a  woman's  book,  but  it  is  an  excit- 
ing one,  and  I  have  been  reading  it  to  Jean- 
nette,  who  likes  it  immensely.  There  is  an 
awful  abyss  in  it  called  'Terrible  Hollow,' 
where  the  bushrangers  used  to  hide ;  it  is  the 
sort  of  place  to  haunt  one's  imagination.  Now, 
you  have  been  in  Australia ;  if  I  recollect 
rightly  you  told  us  so  once.  Do  you  think 
there  ever  was  such  a  place  as  that  hollow  ?  " 
and  she  looked  at  him  inquiringly. 

"  I  think  there  are  many  such  places,"  he 
said  simply,  "  and  one  in  particular,  called  the 
Grose  Valley,  in  the  Blue  Mountains  of  New 
South  Wales,  that  the  author  took  his  descrip- 
tion from  when  he  pictured  Terrible  Hollow. 
Indeed,  I  spent  several  days  in  it  myself  in  "83." 

"  Oh,  do  tell  us  about  it,"  cried  the  girl,  her 
eyes  lighting  up  with  expectation.  "This  is 
positively  interesting.  Jeannette,  didn't  I  tell 
you  there  was  such  a  place,  and  that  if  any  one 
could  tell  us  anything  about  it,  it  was  Mr. 
Yorke  !  Now,  just  imagine  that  Jeannette  and 
I  are  a  couple  of  big  children,  and  that  we  are 
dying  to  know  all  about  this  place.  Begin." 

Perhaps  it  was  the  one  thing  that  this  usually 


Bn  THnconscfous  preceptor.        67 

reticent  man  most  loved  to  talk  about — the 
great  works  and  wonders  of  Nature  that  he  had 
met  with  in  the  course  of  his  nomadic  career. 
And  now  he  told  them,  in  a  simple,  modest  way, 
that  had  no  suspicion  of  pedantry  about  it,  con- 
cerning this  wild,  almost  subterraneous  valley. 
As  he  warmed  to  his  task  he  lost  sight  of  his 
surroundings,  and  described  it  with  character- 
istic, graphic  touches  that  held  his  listeners 
as  if  spellbound.  They  could  almost  believe 
they  were  in  that  far  off  Austral  land.  He 
pictured  to  them  that  great  jagged  rent  on  the 
tableland  of  the  Blue  Mountains,  that  seemed  to 
pierce  into  the  very  bowels  of  the  earth,  and 
whose  sides  went  down  sheer  for  four  thousand 
feet  at  a  bound,  How,  viewed  from  the  verge 
of  this  yawning,  nightmarish  abyss,  the  white- 
limbed  giant  eucalypti,  immense  tree  ferns,  and 
monstrous  fantastic  old-world  flora,  lurking  in 
places  where  the  sun  never  shone,  were  hardly 
discernible  to  the  naked  eye  ;  and  where,  in- 
deed, the  pitiless,  adamantine  walls  of  rock 
made  a  twilight  even  in  the  daytime.  And 
how  that  cold  and  crystal  stream  that  hurried 
through  it,  flung  in  the  first  place  from  the 
dizzy  heights  of  Govett's  leap,  pierced  its  way 
between  cyclopean  blocks  of  sandstone,  and 
through  black  subterrenean  passages — a  verit- 
able river  of  Styx — until  it  emerged  into  the 
bright  sunshine  again,  on  the  other  and  lower 
side  of  the  mountain,  to  form  the  Nepean  river 
and'  help  to  swell  the  lordly  Hawkesbury.  Of 
such  a  place  Milton  or  Dante  might  have 
dreamed. 

But  suddenly  recollecting  himself  he  stopped 
short.  Though  he  had  the  powers  of  a  born 
narrator  he  had  no  inordinate  opinion  of  him- 
self ;  now  he  asked  himself,  in  a  spirit  of  irony, 
if  he  were  graduating  for  the  lecture  platform. 

"  Why  did  you  not  stop  me  ?  "  he  cried,  al- 


68  Sinners  Hwain. 

most  resentfully,  "  how  I  must  have  bored  you  ? 
When  I  get  wound  up  on  such  subjects  there  is 
no  holding  me  ;  like  the  Saskatchewan,  I  go  on 
for  ever." 

But  the  girl  did  not  seem  even  to  notice  this 
self-depreciating  speech.  As  she  had  listened 
to  his  description  the  interest  upon  her  face  had 
become  intense  ;  she  had  sat  in  a  state  of  rapt 
attention,  her  hands  clasped  before  her  resting 
on  her  knees.  Then  slowly  she  seemed  to 
awake  from  wandering  in  that  quaint  old-world 
valley — the  deepest  valley  with  perpendicular 
cliffs  in  the  known  world — to  the  stern  snow- 
bound world  of  the  frozen  North,  and  the 
change  was  a  remarkable  one,  truly.  As  for 
Jeannette,  she  had  sat  with  wide-open  eyes  and 
tingling  ears,  as  if  she  listened  to  some  of  La 
Salle's  adventures  in  the  days  of  le  bois  cour- 
eurs.  Australia  seemed  a  farther  off  and  more 
mythical  country  to  her  than  that  happy  hunt- 
ing ground  of  the  Ojibiways  and  the  Crees. 
She  felt  a  wholesome  respect  for  a  man  who 
could  tell  of  such  wonderful  places,  and  at  the 
same  time  hardly  talk  of  himself  at  all. 

"  Now,"  said  the  girl,  "  this  book  has  an  in- 
terest for  me  that  it  had  not  before.  But  it  is  a 
sad  book,  and  the  moral  is  so  evident " 

She  checked  herself  abruptly  as  if  she  had 
said  more  than  she  intended  to  say. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  musingly,  and  with  an  un- 
conscious, pitiless  candor,  "  apart  from  the 
moral  conveyed,  it  is  simply  the  history  df  a 
natural  sequence  obeying  one  of  Nature's  just 
laws.  It  is  the  inevitable  tragedy  which  waits 
upon  those  lives  whose  downward  career  has 
begun  by  some  apparently  trifling  divergency 
from  the  obvious  path  of  duty,  until  passion  or 
the  sordid  love  of  gain  has  perverted  the  moral 
eyesight,  and  death  alone  can  break  the  spell 
that  binds  the  infatuated  victim.  Just  think  of 


Bn  ^Unconscious  preceptor.        69 

those  misguided  men  being  shot  down  like  wild 
animals  by  the  troopers " 

He  in  his  turn  stopped  abruptly.  What  on 
earth  was  he  talking  about  to  this  girl  ?  He 
had  entirely  lost  sight  of  the  awkward  parallel 
and  personal  bearing  that  the  imaginary  case  he 
had  been  discussing  had  upon  the  surroundings 
of  this  girl's  own  life.  Had  he  forgotten  what 
he  was,  and  what  he  was  there  for  ?  Was  it 
not  bad  enough  to  have  unthinkingly  put  into 
this  innocent  girl's  hands  a  book  having  such  a 
direct  personal  application  without  parading  his 
views  upon  it,  and  running  the  risk  of  being 
considered  as  playing  the  part  of  a  moral  pre- 
ceptor, though,  to  do  him  justice,  nothing  had 
been  further  from  his  thoughts.  He  fairly  bit 
his  lips  with  vexation  at  the  false  light  he  must 
appear  in  to  this  girl. 

And  now,  how  could  he  right  himself  in  her 
eyes  without  making  matters  worse  ?  It  was 
such  a  delicate  subject,  and  must  surely  only 
bring  further  pain  and  humiliation  upon  her. 
Surely  she  could  not  deem  him  guilty  of  such 
candid  brutality.  Fearfully  he  stole  a  look  at 
her. 

And  she,  with  that  subtle  intuition  which 
some  women  possess,  saw  that  he  had  suddenly 
realized  what  misconstruction  might  be  put 
upon  his  unguarded  moralizing.  She  was  also 
true  enough  to  her  womanly  nature  to  feel  not  a 
little  secret  gratification  in  the  fact  that  the 
thought  of  it  distressed  him.  Had  it  not,  then, 
it  would  have  indicated  lack  of  interest  in  her. 
She  saw  the  horns  of  the  dilemma  he  was  on, 
and  it  was  a  touch  of  the  spirit  of  old  Mother 
Eve  that  made  her  affect  to  believe  him  guilty. 

"Oh,  of  course,  you  are  right,"  she  said, 
coldly,  after  a  pause,  "  and  I  ought  to  feel 
obliged  to  you  for  the  delicate  way  in  which  you 
have  tried  to  inculcate  better  principles  into  us 
poor  folks " 


70  Sinners  Gwafn. 

But  she  was  mistaken  when  she  thought  she 
could  jest  on  such  a  subject,  for  her  lip  had 
quivered,  and  there  was  a  pathetic  ring  in  her 
voice  as  she  brought  the  sentence  to  an  abrupt 
close. 

And  now  as  it  flashed  upon  him  that  his  con- 
duct must  have  appeared  in  the  light  of  a  de- 
liberate insult,  his  face  became  the  picture  of 
remorse  and  mortification.  Truly,  a  man  is  a 
blundering  animal.  But  with  not  a  little  satis- 
faction she  saw  the  perturbation  of  mind  she 
had  caused  him,  and,  like  the  true  woman  that 
she  was,  came  to  his  aid. 

"  Forgive  me,"  she  cried,  and  there  was  a 
hint  of  pity  for  him  in  her  voice.  "  Do  you 
think  I  am  not  a  better  judge  of  men  than  to 
suppose  you  guilty  of  such  a  thing.  I  saw  from 
the  first  that  you  had  not  dreamed  of  preaching 
at  us  ;  it  was  wrong  of  me  to  try  and  joke  on 
such  a  subject.  Come,  let  us  cry  quits,  though 
your  punishment  has  been  more  than  you  de- 
served." There  was  a  strange  mixture  of  con- 
trition and  generous  frankness  in  her  voice. 

He  could  hardly  trust  himself  to  answer  her 
on  account  of  the  unwonted  elation  that  he  felt. 
The  girl  began  to  show  in  a  new  aspect  in  his 
eyes.  No  experienced  coquette  of  the  gay  up- 
to-date  world  could  have  applied  the  rack,  and 
released  him  again,  more  skilfully  than  she  had 
done.  The  very  fact  that  she  had  caused  him 
temporary  pain  made  him  feel  attracted  by  her. 

Then  she  rose  from  her  seat,  put  on  a  dainty 
beaver  cap,  pulled  on  a  large  loose  fur  coat,  and 
drew  on  her  mitts. 

He  rose  to  go. 

"Oh,  no;  not  till  I  come  back,"  she  said, 
pleasantly.  "  Jeannette  will  make  some  tea,  and 
you  must  wait  and  have  a  cup  with  us.  You 
see  we  are  quite  fashionable  folk  here,  and  gen- 
erally have  a  cup  in  the  afternoon  about  four 


Hn  "dnconscfous  preceptor.        71 

o'clock  ;  but  then  we  don't  have  it  at  dinner 
like  most  people  in  the  North- West.  I  am  going 
out  to  get  some  honey,  which  is  in  an  under- 
ground cellar  on  the  face  of  the  butte,  and 
won't  be  long.  You  see  it  is  my  particular  do- 
main and  not  Jeannette's  ;  hers  is  in  making  the 
best  cup  of  tea  ever  you  drank.  Au  revoir." 

And  with  a  graceful  little  curtsey  that  would 
have  done  credit  to  a  court  belle  of  the  Second 
Empire,  and  a  smile  that  seemed  to  banish 
care,  she  entered  the  little  passage  and  passed 
out  into  the  blizzard. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

"AN    UNCOMMONLY   BADLY    FROZEN   EAR." 

MARIE  ST.  DENIS  was  back  again  in  less 
than  ten  minutes.  When  she  opened  the  outer 
door  a  gust  of  cold  wind  and  a  little  cloud  of 
fine  powdery  snow  came  in  with  her.  Indeed, 
it  was  frozen  on  her  eyelids  and  cheeks,  and  for 
a  moment  she  was  scarcely  recognizable. 

"  The  drifting  snow  stings  and  pricks  one's 
face  like  so  many  needle  points,"  she  exclaimed, 
breathlessly. 

"  Pray  come  to  the  light,"  said  Harry  Yorke, 
taking  her  by  the  arm  gently,  and  leading  her  to 
the  window.  "  One  of  your  ears  looks  as  if  it 
had  been  nipped  by  the  frost." 

And,  truly  enough,  the  lower  lobe  of  one  of 
her  small  shell-like  ears  was  frozen;  it  was 
as  white  as  the  snow  itself.  Two  minutes'  ex- 
posure to  a  sharp  wind  will  often  suffice  to  ac- 
complish this  not  uncommon  accident  in  these 
latitudes. 

He  took  off  her  beaver  cap  gently,  caught  up 
a  small  handful  of  snow  which  had  crusted  one 
side  of  her  buffalo  coat,  and  with  one  hand 
among  the  soft,  gleaming  tresses  of  her  shapely 
head  to  steady  it,  with  the  other  rubbed  the 
nipped  ear  with  snow.  She  submitted  to  the 
ordeal,  as  most  people  sooner  or  later  learn  to 
do  in  the  North-West,  as  a  matter  of  course,  but 
with  a  somewhat  heightened  color.  Luckily, 
the  frost-bite  was  a  slight  one,  and,  perhaps,  the 
pain  occasioned  by  the  thawing-out  process 
was  inconsiderable,  if,  indeed,  it  pained  at  all. 
His  prompt  manipulation  of  the  frozen  lobe  had 


"H  JSaDlg  3fro3en  Sar."          73 

minimized  the  unpleasant  consequencel  usually 
attending  such  accidents. 

But  it  was  a  remarkable  thing  that  the 
operation  took  so  much  longer  to  perform  than 
such  operations  usually  do.  Long  after  the  ear 
had  become  a  natural  and  healthy  pink  again — 
and  she  must  have  known  very  well  that  the 
frost  had  been  driven  out  of  it  and  the  circula- 
tion of  the  blood  restored — he  continued  clasp- 
ing that  beautiful  head  with  one  hand  and  rub- 
bing that  ear  with  the  other.  Her  delicately 
flushed  face  and  these  bright  eyes  were  danger- 
ously near  his  then.  Surely  such  a  palpable 
dallying  was  a  most  reprehensible  thing ;  but 
such  things  will  be  as  long  as  human  nature 
is  human  nature:  as  long  as  pretty  girls  will 
freeze  their  ears  and  there  are  accommodating 
young  men  handy  to  restore  the  suspended  cir- 
culation. 

Perhaps  he  had  not  thought  himself  capable 
of  the  emotions  that  thrilled  him  when  he  felt 
the  touch  of  that  silky  hair  and  that  cool,  soft 
skin  of  hers.  What  with  that  great  pity  with 
which  he  had  begun  to  regard  her,  and  what 
with  the  knowledge  of  the  misery  that  he  knew 
he  must  unwillingly  have  a  share  in  bringing 
upon  her,  she  was  exercising  a  dangerous  influ- 
ence over  him.  Perhaps — and  who  knows  ? — 
if  old  Jeannette  had  not  been  there  he  might,  for 
such  things  not  infrequently  happen — in  a  mo- 
ment of  unreasoning  and  irresistible  impulse 
have  caught  her  to  him  and  told  her  how  dear 
she  had  become  to  him.  He  could  remember 
how  when  putting  on  the  skates  of  the  heir- 
ess in  the  Old  Country,  the  only  feelings  that 
he  experienced  when  he  had  handled  her 
dainty  little  feet  were  that  her  boots  were  un- 
commonly cold  and  clammy,  and  that  the  steel 
sent  an  irresistible  shiver  through  him.  But 
then,  steel  is  not  a  beautiful  thing  like  a  pretty 


74  Sinners 

girl's  datinty  ear.  It  was  Jeannette  that  came  to 
the  rescue  of  these  two  forgetful  mortals  just 
then. 

"  Allons-nous-en  !  "  she  cried,  "  here  is  a  cup 
of  beautiful  tea  with  the  best  of  cream  in  it. 
Bless  my  heart,  Marie,  you  must  have  had  your 
ear  very  badly  frozen  indeed,  it  takes  such  a  long 
time  to  thaw  out ! " 

And  the  old  lady  chuckled  grimly.  In  her 
youth  her  own  ears  had  been  frozen  many  a 
time,  and  thawed  out  too. 

It  was  a  significant  thing  that  the  rubbing 
should  cease  so  suddenly,  and  that  the  pair 
should  start  apart  so  guiltily. 

"  Thank  you  very  much,"  said  the  girl ;  "  how 
it  must  have  bored  you  to  rub  such  a  long  time." 
She  really  meant  nothing  by  this  embarrassing 
speech  ;  it  was  the  only  thing  she  could  think 
of  saying  just  then.  People  somehow  will  say 
things  that  they  would  like  to  have  expressed 
differently  on  such  occasions. 

"  Don't  mention  it,"  he  replied  sheepishly. 
"  It  was  an  uncommonly  badly  frozen  ear — I 
mean,  I  don't  think  that  it  was  of  much  account 
after  all." 

"  Oh,  none  whatever,"  she  rejoined,  simply 
and  without  thinking  this  speech  in  any  way  re- 
markable. But  their  eyes  met,  and  there  was 
a  half-serious,  laughing  light  in  hers,  and  such 
a  conscious-stricken  look  in  his,  that  they  both 
broke  into  a  somewhat  foolish  and  shamefaced 
laugh. 

Then  they  sat  in  the  early  twilight  and  en- 
joyed Jeannette's  tea.  They  did  not  drink  it  out 
of  transparent  china  cups  or  chaste  Sevres,  but 
out  of  plain,  dead-white  porcelain  that  is  associ- 
ated with  the  Hudson  Bay  Company's  hardware 
department.  And  Jeannette  poured  it  out  of  a 
little  brown  earthenware  pot,  of  which  the  spout 
could  hardly  be  said  to  be  intact ;  but,  so  far  as 


"  21  JBaDlg  ffrosen  Bar,"  75 

Harry  Yorke  was  concerned,  he  only  knew  that  it 
was  most  delicious  tea,  and  that  he  could  not  help 
saying  so.  They  sat  round  the  stove  and  chat- 
ted merrily,  and  under  the  cheering  influence  of 
the  tea,  old  Jeannette,  with  the  volatile  spirits  of 
her  race,  kept  them  amused  with  some  truly 
wonderful  reminiscences  she  recounted.  She 
possessed  an  almost  inexhaustible  fund  of  the 
folk-lore  of  these  once  wild  regions.  Of  the 
days  (not  so  very  long  ago,  either)  when  the 
buffalo  blackened  the  plains  with  their  numbers ; 
of  the  exciting  adventures  of  the  old  French 
voyagers  with  the  Indians  ;  of  the  days  of  the 
old  North- West  Company,  and  the  Hudson  Bay 
Company,  when  Assiniboia,  Manitoba  and  the 
Territories  generally,  were  unknown  or  at 
least  known  only  as  a  part  of  the  "  Great  Ameri- 
can Desert  "  ;  of  the  days  of  Louis  Kiel  and  the 
first  rebellion  ;  reminiscences  of  Wolseley ;  what 
Fort  Garry  looked  like  in  the  old  Red  River 
days  ;  and  of  the  second  rebellion.  In  short, 
Jeannette  was  a  living  epitome  of  the  history 
of  the  Great  Lone  Land. 

It  grew  dark,  but  still  they  sat  talking  and 
laughing ;  the  cloud  that  threatened  them  had 
evidently  lifted  for  the  time  being.  It  would 
have  been  a  difficult  thing  for  a  stranger,  seeing 
them  sitting  there,  to  have  guessed  the  nature 
of  the  business  that  necessitated  the  presence  of 
the  police-sergeant  in  that  house.  This  individ- 
ual, indeed,  just  then  was  watching  the  effect  of 
the  flickering  firelight  as  it  played  upon  the 
hair  of  Marie  St.  Denis,  discovering  a  gleam  of 
gold  in  it.  He  would  have  been  perfectly  con- 
tent to  sit  there  for  an  indefinite  period,  so  sat- 
isfied was  he  with  his  occupation. 

To  the  next  room,  where  the  officer,  the  pri- 
vate, and  the  scout  sat,  a  peal  of  laughter  had 
penetrated. 

"  What  the  devil's  that?  "  suddenly  cried  the 


76  Sinners  {Twain. 

gentleman  who  represented  Her  Majesty.  "  I 
guess  I  he'rd  that  afore." 

"  Sir,  did  you  do  me  the  honor  of  addressing 
yourself  to  me  ?  "  inquired  the  little  scout  with 
gravity. 

"  Yess,  stupid — I  declare,  Pierre,  you  grow 
stupider  every  day.  I  say  you,  constable,  you 
Townley  chap,  what's  that  blanked  row?  It 
wasn't  a  horse,  was  it  ?  "  And  Jamie's  voice 
became  tinged  with  anxiety. 

"  No,  sir,"  was  the  reassuring  answer  of  the 
private.  "It  is  that  beggar  Yorkey — I  beg 
your  pardon,  sir,  I  meant  to  say  the  sergeant, 
fooling  with  that  pretty  girl  in  the  next  room — 
and  what  a  time  he  is  having,  to  be  sure  ! " 

And  at  the  thought  of  what  he  was  losing, 
the  outspoken  and  precocious  youngster  turned 
over  on  his  side,  and  groaned. 

"  Is  he — er — fond  of  that  sort  of  thing  ?  " 
queried  the  officer  angling,  according  to  his 
wont,  for  information  of  an  incriminating  na- 
ture. 

"  Well,  I  should  just  say,  ra — ther,"  answered 
the  private,  somewhat  unjustly  it  must  be  con- 
fessed, but  with  an  excusable  desire  to  punish 
his  superior  overcoming  his  scruples.  "  Why, 
Dick  is  such  a  confirmed  flirt  that  he'd  make 
love  to  the  black-eyed  goddess  Night  if  he  got 
the  chance." 

"  You  don't  say  so  ?  The  devil  he  would  !  " 
was  the  weak  and  dubious  comment. 

Jamie  did  not  feel  quite  certain  that  the  pri- 
vate's reply  committed  the  sergeant  to  any  spe- 
cific charge,  so  did  not  care  to  pursue  the  matter 
further  lest  he  should  betray  his  ignorance  as 
to  the  personality  of  the  dark-eyed  Eve  in  ques- 
tion, who,  he  concluded,  might  only  be  some 
Toronto  barmaid,  after  all. 

The  private  noted  with  disappointment  that 
Jamie  had  refused  the  bait. 


"  a  ;®a£>lB  fftojen  Bar."          77 

"  It's  my  usual  luck,"  he  continued,  forgetting 
the  august  presence  of  his  superior  officer  in 
his  half  envious  soliloquy.  "  But  who'd  have 
thought  that  old  Yorkey  would  have  gone  in 
for  that  sort  of  thing  ?  He's  a  good-looking 
chap,  though,  with  that  independent,  devil-may- 
care,  cynical  sort  of  air  which  some  women 
like." 

"  Then  why  is  it,  mon  cher  Richard,  you  will 
not  adopt  some  of  these  qualities  you  will  make 
allusion  to?"  politely  asked  the  little  scout 
whose  sharp  ears  had  overheard  the  latter  part 
of  Dick  Townley's  meditations. 

"  Well,  my  dear  Sancho,"  replied  the  youth, 
stroking  the  place  where  as  yet  any  hirsute  cov- 
ering had  resolutely  refused  to  grow,  much  to 
the  anxious  one's  disgust.  "  You  see,  it  is  not 
quite  my  style.  I  could  not  get  up  a  Conrad- 
like  appearance  if  I  tried." 

"  Eh  !  what's  that  ?  What's  that  you  say  ? 
More  insolence,  more  rank  insubordination  and 
disrespectful  talk  of  your  superiors  ?  "  cried 
Jamie,  who,  with  both  ears  very  wide  open, 
thought  he  had  heard  enough  to  justify  him  put- 
ting a  charge  against  the  private.  "  Just  re- 
peat that  a-pop-probrious  term." 

(Jamie  occasionally  hunted  his  dictionary  for 
long  words,  which  he  could  use  to  advantage  in 
the  Orderly  Room.) 

"  I  said  Conrad-like,  sir,"  repeated  the  pri- 
vate, respectfully. 

"  And  what  the  devil's  that,  sir  ?  Is  it  a 
man  ?  Or,  if  it  is  a  woman,  which  amounts  to 
the  same  thing,  who  the  devil  is  she  ?  " — clear- 
ness of  expression  and  a  grammatical  treatment 
of  his  personal  pronouns  were  not  Jamie's 
strong  points. — "  How  dare  you  flaunt  your 
blasphemous  Cockney  slang  in  my  face  ?  You 
he'rd  him,  Pierre  ?  I  call  you  as  a  witness." 

And  Jamie  dived  into  a  little  valise  to  find  his 
pencil  and  note-book. 


78  Sinners  Cwain. 

"  Hear  what,  sir  ?  I  didn't  hear  anything," 
said  the  scout  stolidly.  "  Have  you  two  been 
talking  ?  " 

"  Oh,  holy  smoke  and  Jerusalem  !  "  cried 
Jamie,  springing  to  his  feet.  "  This  is  a  con- 
spiracy— you  two  are  in  league — you've  done 
nothing  but  insult  me  since  we've  been  out. 
And  you,  Pierre,  you'd  tell  me  a  barefaced, 
darned  lie,  you  would  !  "  And  Jamie's  round 
face  looked  as  if  a  glass  of  port  had  been 
poured  over  it. 

"  Sir,"  said  the  little  scout,  in  turn  getting 
warm  and  forgetting  himself.  "  I  would  re- 
spectfully warn  you  to  meditate  just  a  leetle  be- 
fore you  talk  about  lying— gentlemen  do  not  do 
it!" 

"  Well  I'm .  There  now,  Townley,  you 

heard  that ;  you  can't  say  you  didn't  hear  that 
blanked  insolence  ? "  cried  Jamie,  running 
about  distractedly,  then  stopping  right  in  front 
of  the  private,  who  turned  from  the  frosted  win- 
dow as  if  he  had  been  looking  out  through  it. 

"  Hear  what,  sir  ?  Did  you  address  me  ?  " 
and  the  private  looked  around  with  a  face  so 
stolid  and  stupid  that  it  would  have  done  credit 
to  Jamie  in  one  of  his  intellectual  moods. 
"Or  were  you  talking  to  me,  Pierre  ?  I  did 
not  happen  to  be  listening." 

Jamie  fairly  staggered  back  against  the  wall 
speechless  at  this  evidently  barefaced  conspir- 
acy to  set  his  authority  at  defiance.  The  pri- 
vate and  the  scout  really  feared  that  the  apo- 
plectic fit  which  they  knew  some  day  must  carry 
off  Jamie  was  about  to  seize  him  just  then,  and 
were  in  no  small  degree  alarmed.  To  tell  the 
truth,  there  was  not  one  grain  of  disrespectful 
intention  in  either  the  private's  or  the  scout's 
composition  ;  it  was  only  in  self-defence  that 
they  had  to  resort  to  these  questionable  means 
of  evading  the  serious  delinquencies  which  their 


jfroaen  Ear."  79 

ignorant  superior  would  have  involved  them  in, 
could  he  have  had  his  own  way.  Jamie  stag- 
gered to  the  door,  and  went  into  the  passage. 

"  Well,  I'm  blest ! "  said  the  private  under 
his  breath.  "  Some  of  the  officers  in  the  North- 
West  Mounted  Police  are  the  best  friends 
some  of  the  rank  and  file  can  have,  and,  of 
course,  the  Canadian  Government  are  at  liberty 
to  pursue  their  own  policy ;  but  when  their 
policy  necessitates  the  granting  of  commissions 
to  cads  and  tyrants  like  Jamie,  I  think  it  is 
time  for  all  respectable  men  to  leave  the  force. 
I  wish  to  goodness  I  could  scrape  enough 
money  together  to  buy  my  discharge." 

In  the  meantime  the  officer  had  gone  to  the 
door  of  the  next  room  and  kicked  violently 
upon  it. 

"  Hilloa,  there,  Yorke !  "  he  shouted — Jamie 
usually  affected  a  nasal  drawl.  "  Darn  you, 
Yorke  !  come  here ;  I  want  you.  What  do  you 
mean  fooling  away  your  time  for  with  that 
wench  ?  I  want  you  to  come  and  put  Townley 
under  arrest  for  rank  insubordination,  using 
insolent  language  to  his  superiors,  and  making 
a  false  statement.  I'll  get  '  Hatchet-face  '  "  — 
which,  by  the  way,  was  a  nick-name  given  by 
the  half-breeds  to  a  superintendent  command- 
ing the  division — "  to  imprison  him,  and  risk  an 
appeal." 

On  hearing  this  excited  speech  the  sergeant 
flushed  angrily  and  sprang  to  his  feet.  Jean- 
nette  stepped  to  the  stove,  and  seized  a  dipper 
of  boiling  water.  The  beautiful  '  wench  '  re- 
ferred to  cried  mischievously,  "Come  in." 

But  the  old  adage,  "  once  bitten,  twice  shy," 
held  good  in  Jamie's  case. 

"  Not  if  I  knows  it !  Oh,  not  for  Joseph  !" 
was  the  drawling  reply  to  this  invitation  from 
behind  OTl*8oor.  "  I'm  too  fly  by  long  odds  for 
that.  I  don't  come  in  as  long  that  old  she-cat 


8o  Sinners  {Twain. 

has  that  dipper  of  water  handy  on  the  stove." — 
Jamie  had  wisely  reconnoitred  through  the  key- 
hole.— "Get  a  rustle  on  there,  Yorke,  or  I'll 
shove  a  charge  against  you." 

The  sergeant  hurried  into  the  passage  so  as 
not  to  keep  his  superior  officer  waiting. 

"  Come  outside  into  the  stable,"  said  Jamie. 
I  want  to  talk  to  you.  What  ?  You  want  to 
put  your  fur  coat  on,  do  you  ?  Oh,  never  mind, 
I'm  wrapped  up  sufficiently  for  both  of  us  " — 
his  characteristic  wit  was  of  a  light  and  playful 
turn — "  I  declare,  Yorke,  you're  getting  more 
of  a  tenderfoot  every  day.  I  say,  by  the  way, 
don't  you  think  you're  rushing  that  girl  in  there 
rather  too  hard  ?  You  want  to  look  out,  and  not 
scare  her  at  the  start  off :  give  her  her  '  head  '  a 
little  at  first ;  then  just  let  her  feel  the  bit,  and 
stay  with  it  until  you've  got  her  well  in  hand — 
young  women  are  like  young  horses :  they  want 
a  bit  of  jockeyin'." 

Harry  Yorke  did  not  dispute  the  correctness 
of  this  analagous  equine  treatment.  It  was  a 
subject  which  he  did  not  care  about  discussing, . 
least  of  any  man,  with  his  superior  officer.  He:. 
led  the  way  into  the  stable,  and  then  waited  to : 
hear  what  the  officer  had  to  say.  It  took  some 
considerable  time  to  say,  and  considerable 
ingenuity  on  the  sergeant's  part  to  piece  to- 
gether the  many  obscure  and  irrelevant  things 
that  were  said,  so  as  to  arrive  at  a  fairly 
intelligible  idea  of  what  had  occurred.  And 
while  the  sergeant  was  pointing  out  to  him 
the  futility  attending  the  putting  of  the  pri- 
vate under  arrest,  if  the  latter  and  the  scout 
insisted  on  maintaining  that  they  had  simply 
misunderstood  him,  he,  the  inspector,  true  to 
the  promptings  of  his  erratic  mind,  went  on  to 
speak  of  another  phase  of  the  situation. 

"  Now,  then,"  he  said  ;  "  it's  time  this  blizzard 
was  lifting.  It  might  lift  at  any  time  now  ;  and 


JBa&lg  ffrosen  Bar."  81 


more  than  likely  Gabriel  St.  Denis  ain't  far  off. 
He'll  probably  take  a  look  in  here  to  see  how 
the  little  wench  is  getting  on  afore  he  proceeds 
to  the  Hat  with  his  cargo  of  liquor.  The  snow 
will  make  traveling  for  a  wagon  rather  difficult  ; 
but,  at  any  rate,  ther'll  be  no  difficulty  in  track- 
ing anything  supposing  we  shouldn't  catch 
sight  of  them  just  at  first,  or  should  even  pass 
them,  and  then  come  across  their  tracks  travel- 
ing northward's.  By  the  way,  I  think  it  would 
be  just  as  well  to  keep  an  eye  on  them  women  to- 
morrow. They  might  mount  one  o'  them  cay- 
uses  after  we're  gone,  cut  down  one  o'  them 
coullees,  get  ahead  of  us,  and  give  old  St.  Denis 
the  tip.  I've  he'rd  tell  o'  woman  do  that  sort  o' 
thing  afore.  But,  anyhow,  no  woman's  game 
to  do  it  unless  in  broad  daylight.  But  we'll 
watch  them.  I've  some  experience  o'  women. 
Oh,  I'm  up  to  their  little  games,  you  kin  bet 
your  sweet-scented  socks  !  " 

As  the  sergeant  had  not  the  slightest  inclina- 
tion to  dispute  this  point  either  with  his  supe- 
rior. he  muttered  something  which  might  mean 
anything  ;  but  did  not  feel  particularly  at  ease 
in  his  own  mind.  Jamie  looked  around  the 
stable  with  an  air  of  satisfaction  ;  then,  as  if  a 
new  idea  had  just  presented  itself  to  his  mind, 
he  said,  with  unction  — 

"  I  say,  Yorke,  ain't  a  stable  a  stunnin'  place 
to  spend  one's  time  in  ?  I'm  darned  if  I 
couldn'c  live  in  one  ?  " 

With  this  sentiment  the  sergeant  hastened  to 
agree.  It  also  struck  him  with  a  certain  whim- 
sical force  that  Nature  did  occasionally  do 
unaccountable  things.  When,  for  instance,  she 
gave  some  brutes—  notably  the  horse  and  dog 
—  noble  traits  that  would  have  distinguished 
them  as  human  beings,  and  gave  some  human 
beings  predilections  that  would  have  distin- 
guished them  as  brutes.  Then  he  felt  in  an 


82  Sinners  {Twain. 

apologetic  frame  of  mind  toward  the  brutes 
for  having,  even  in  imagination,  added  such 
an  unworthy  specimen  to  their  number. 

Then  dark-winged  Night,  that  witching, 
dreamy-eyed  goddess,  came  fluttering  down 
over  the  blizzard-haunted,  lonely  land,  shadow- 
ing the  snow-blurred  landscape.  Looking  out 
upon  such  a  hopelessly  dreary  scene  one  could 
hardly  imagine  that  the  sun  would  ever  shine 
upon  it  again :  that  the  cutting  and  icy  air 
would  ever  again  be  mild  and  balmy :  that  the 
songs  of  birds  would  rise  in  it,  and  that  trees 
and  flowers  would  blossom  and  bloom  there, 
such  a  grip  had  the  Ice-king  on  it  then.  It 
was  hard  to  realize  that,  on  the  other  side  of 
that  wild  storm-cloud,  the  placid  moon  and 
stars  looked  down,  as  serenely  beautiful  and 
immutable  as  ever,  just  as  they  had  looked 
down  for  countless  ages,  through  realms  of 
space,  with  sphinx-like  inscrutability  upon  this 
little  planet  of  ours. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

WHAT  A  GIRL  WILL  DO. 

MIDNIGHT:  and  Sleep,  that  gracious  god- 
dess wearing  the  pathetic  image  of  her  twin 
sister  Death,  folding  one  half  of  a  weary  world 
in  her  fond  embrace.  Midnight :  and  a  change 
has  come  over  the  spirit  of  the  elements.  For 
as  if  the  vacuum  to  which  the  snow-laden  air 
hurried  northwards  had  been  filled,  the  blizzard 
gradually  ceased  to  blow,  and  sighed  itself  to 
rest.  And  then  a  stillness,  and  a  peace,  as  pro- 
found as  that  which  is  supposed  to  brood  over 
a  dead  lunar  landscape,  fell  upon  the  ghastly 
and  desolate  face  of  this  great,  lone,  snow- 
shrouded  prairie-land.  As  if  a  curtain  had 
been  drawn  away  from  between  heaven  and 
earth,  the  eternal  dome  of  heaven  showed 
clearly  overhead.  It  was  gemmed  and  lit  up 
by  countless  myriads  of  God's  own  light-givers. 

And  yet  there  are  those  who  will  look  upon 
such  a  sight,  who  may  even  comprehend  the 
marvellously  adjusted  system  that  maintains 
the  harmony  of  the  spheres  in  illimitable  space, 
and  will  doubt  the  existence  of  a  Divine  Intelli- 
gence to  have  planned  it  so.  There  are  those 
who,  because  their  speculative  minds  have  wan- 
dered and  lost  themselves  in  the  cloudlands  of 
metaphysics  and  transcendentalism,  will  say 
with  querulous  and  pitiable  self-sufficiency, 
"  There  is  no  God,"  and  at  the  same  time  lose 
sight  of  the  significant  fact  and  reason  of  their 
own  existence.  There  are  those  sterner  ones, 
who,  grappling  with  this  fact,  think  that  they 
have  solved  the  whole  mystery  of  life  by  a 


84  Sinners  tlwain. 

purely  temporal  theory  of  evolution — a  pitiful 
theory  when  standing  alone,  when  all  it  can 
teach  is  that  Man  has  raised  himself  a  little 
higher  than  the  brutes,  and,  like  them,  has  no 
life  beyond  the  grave.  Gross,  cheerless,  and 
pernicious  philosophy,  antagonistical  to  the 
practical  ethics  of  progress — God's  own  way  of 
working.  Whether  we  have  been  evolved  or 
not  is,  perhaps,  a  matter  of  little  moment  after 
all.  Let  us  admit  evolution,  which  is  likely 
enough,  not  regarding  it  with  a  cold,  materialis- 
tic, and  inadequate  philosophy,  but  with  that 
higher  reason  that  He  has  implanted  in  our 
breasts.  Then,  is  not  His  way  of  working  only 
the  more  wonderful  and  sublime,  the  juster — 
more  intelligible — subtler — more  comprehensive 
the  surer  system  of  government  when  it  distin- 
guishes between  responsible  and  irresponsible 
Man?  Man  of  no  consequence,  forsooth! 
when  it  has  taken  who  knows  what  aeons  to 
make  him  what  he  is — a  being  whose  sense  of 
right  and  wrong  has  outgrown  the  mere  judicial 
phase — that  phase  in  accordance  with  Man's 
purely  temporal  well-being. 

Surely  this  thought,  then,  should  give  us 
courage,  and  enable  us  to  cope  with  these 
devils  Doubt  and  Despair.  Seeing  that  all 
things  in  nature  bear  the  impress  of  intelligent 
design  and  progression  ;  since  death  itself  is 
but  the  attainment  of  another  rung  in  the  lad- 
der that  reaches  to  a  fuller  life,  we,  therefore, 
who  have  become  responsible  beings,  do  not 
tarry  here,  but  journey  on  to  reap  as  we  have 
sown,  in  that  Hereafter  so  wisely  shrouded  from 
us. 

Are  not  our  lives  great  trials  of  faith  ?  for 
can  the  philosopher  see  farther  behind  the 
scenes  than  the  child  ?  Trials  of  faith,  but 
with  the  abundant  proofs  of  His  handiwork — 
the  finger  of  God  pointing  onwards,  upwards, 
and  appealing  to  our  truer  selves. 


TDdbat  a  <3W  will  2>o.  85 

Twelve  o'clock :  and  in  a  little  end  room  of 
the  house  Marie  St.  Denis  has  risen  from  the 
bed  on  which  she  had  a  few  hours  earlier  flung 
herself  without  having  undressed.  She  struck 
a  light  stealthily,  lit  a  candle,  and  listened  in- 
tently. There  is  no  sound  to  be  heard  save 
the  hard,  metallic  ticking  of  the  old  clock  in  the 
kitchen,  and  the  occasional  muffled  bark  and 
stifled  yelps  of  the  hound  as  it  lies  dreaming  in 
front  of  the  kitchen  stove.  A  dog's  actual  life 
is  not  such  a  very  short  one  after  all,  for  he 
lives  every  minute  of  his  waking  life,  and  he 
lives  his  sleeping  one  as  well — in  his  dreams. 
Occasionly  the  girl  could  hear — so  still  it  had 
become — the  occasional  stirring  of  the  cattle  in 
the  corral  and  shed.  The  horses  by  this  time 
were  lying  down,  or  dozing  and  nodding  like 
sleepy  human  beings,  in  their  stalls.  Then  an 
energetic  young  cock  in  the  partially  under- 
ground hen-house  hard  by,  having  been 
awakened  by  a  shaft  of  moonlight  streaming 
full  in  upon  him,  suddenly  straightened  himself 
and  began  to  crow  lustily,  under  the  delusion 
that  he  had  overslept  himself,  and  that  he  had 
allowed  humanity  in  general  to  sleep  longer 
than  that  time  which  it  was  his  privilege  to  ap- 
portion for  it.  There  are  many  men  in  the  world 
who  resemble  the  cock ;  they  think  they  are 
brought  expressly  into  it  by  an  intelligent  Prov- 
idence in  order  to  make  their  own  particular 
presence  known,  and  direct  their  neighbors' 
affairs. 

The  girl  placed  the  light  in  a  shaded  corner 
of  the  room,  and  looked  out  of  the  little  win- 
dow. Well  might  she  start ;  the  blizzard  had 
utterly  ceased,  and  outside  it  was  almost  as 
clear  as  day,  for  there  was  a  bright  three-quar- 
ter moon.  The  time  had  come  for  action  now  ; 
but  could  she  leave  the  house  without  being 
observed?  She  must  not,  in  the  first  place, 


86  Sinners 

awaken  Jeannette,  who  might  try  to  detain  her. 
The  sergeant  had  promised  that  he  would  not 
interfere  with  her  actions ;  but  it  was  just  possi- 
ble that  if  any  of  the  others  happened  to  be 
awake,  and  looked  out,  they  would  see  that  the 
storm  had  ceased — even  if  the  humming  of 
the  stove  did  not  prevent  them  from  marking 
the  absence  of  the  wind — and  at  once  be  on 
the  alert  to  look  out  for  her  father,  who  they 
knew,  if  he  were  not  even  now  near  at  hand,  must 
be  traveling  again.  It  was  the  fixed  resolve  of 
this  daughter  of  the  prairie,  to  go  out  alone 
upon  it,  and  meeting  her  father,  apprise  him  of 
the  proximity  of  the  police,  and  so  enable  him 
to  escape  the  danger,  either  by  cacheing  the 
liquor  and  returning  empty-handed,  or  by 
another  scheme  which  her  fertile  brain  had 
already  conceived.  She  knew  it  was  bitterly 
cold  outside,  but  she  had  not  lived  in  that 
country  the  greater  part  of  her  life  not  to  know 
exactly  how  to  prepare  for  such  an  emergency. 
She  slipped  on  a  pair  of  extra  woollen  stock- 
ings and  a  pair  of  moccasins,  put  on  a  species 
of  buckskin  legging,  beautifully  fringed,  and 
wrought  with  colored  silks,  such  as  some 
women  have  worn  in  the  Western  States. 
She  invested  herself  in  a  light  and  similarly 
wrought  loose  garment,  resembling  a  buckskin 
shirt,  and  wound  round  her  waist  a  long  silk 
sash.  She  pulled  a  large  silky  beaver  cap  down 
over  her  ears,  pulled  on  a  pair  of  beaver  mitts, 
then  drew  from  under  the  bed  a  pair  of  snow- 
shoes,  and  carried  them  under  one  arm,  ready 
to  slip  on  her  feet.  She  was  a  picturesque  and 
typical  figure  for  a  land  of  ice  and  snow.  Then, 
as  stealthily,  she  extinguished  the  light,  and 
left  the  room.  So  softly  did  she  step  that  even 
old  Michelle,  the  hound,  who  lay  before  the 
stove,  did  not  hear  her  footsteps,  he  only  stirred 
uneasily  in  his  sleep,  pawed  the  air  wildly  for  a 


Wbat  a  (Bfrl  will  Do.  87 

minute  or  two  with  his  forepaws,  and  gave  a 
few  sharp,  but  muffled  yelps.  He  was  in  full 
chase  after  a  coyote  ;  and  now  he  was  squar- 
ing old  accounts  with  it. 

Then,  as  noiselessly  as  a  thief  in  the  night, 
she  prepared  to  leave  the  house.  She  stood  for 
a  moment  in  the  little  passage,  and  with  every 
sense  quickened,  listened  intently.  If  any  one 
were  to  awake  now,  and  discover  her  presence, 
then  all  her  scheming  would  be  at  an  end,  and 
the  ruin  of  her  father  would  be  accomplished. 
Her  heart  throbbed  wildly,  she  could  almost 
hear  it  beat,  and  for  a  moment  a  sickening  fear 
took  possession  of  her  as  she  heard  some  one 
stir  in  the  next  room,  and  a  voice  with  a  nasal 
drawl  in  it  quaver  out — 

"  I  say,  Yorke — darn  you,  Yorke  !  By  Jimini ! 
the  beggar  sleeps  as  soundly  as  if  he  was  a 
gentleman  with  nothing  on  his  mind  !  Show  a 
leg !  I  he'rd  them  horses  just  now,  an'  I'm 
afeard  one  of  them  must  have  got  its  leg  over 
the  halter  and  be  hanging  hisself.  Get  a 
blanked  rustle  on,  an'  see  to  it." 

"  Very  good,  sir,"  answered  the  sleepy  Yorke. 
"  But  I  think  it  is  unlikely ;  I  tied  the  horses 
up  myself  last  evening,  and  short,  too.  But 
we'll  see." 

In  point  of  fact  Jamie  had  heard  nothing,  but 
having  taken  an  extra  heavy  supper,  was  unable 
to  sleep  ;  and,  thinking  it  was  a  pity  that  others 
should  sleep  when  he  could  not,  decided  to 
rouse  up  the  sergeant.  He  had  half  a  mind  to 
wake  the  other  two. 

The  poor  girl  heard  no  more.  Silently  she 
opened  the  door  and  passed  out  into  the  night. 

The  sergeant  arose,  and  tying  on  his  moc- 
casins left  the  room  quietly,  so  as  not  to  dis- 
turb the  others.  When  he  opened  the  door  he 
was  not  a  little  surprised  at  the  change — the 
beauty  and  serenity  of  the  night.  The  whole 


88  Sinners  Cwain. 

world  seemed  flooded  with  a  silvery,  mystic 
moonlight.  He  was  passing  the  gable  end  of 
the  house  when  he  suddenly  caught  sight  of  an 
upright,  dark  form  that  showed  imperfectly  in 
the  shadow.  His  first  impulse  was  to  challenge 
it  after  the  manner  of  a  sentry  ;  but  an  unde- 
fined something  kept  him  silent.  Still  the  fig- 
ure did  not  move,  and  still  he  did  not  know 
what  it  was.  Then  that  unaccountable  spirit 
of  curiosity  which  so  often  exerts  such  a  strange 
power  over  us — perhaps  more  noticeable  in  the 
case  of  animals — even  in  the  face  of  danger, 
possessed  him,  and  he  took  a  step  or  two 
towards  it.  It  was  a  human  being.  As  if 
some  sudden  intuitive  sense  had  enlightened 
him,  he  went  right  up  to  this  person,  and 
gently  taking  an  arm,  led  him,  or  her,  forward, 
so  that  the  bright  moonlight  might  fall  full 
upon  the  face.  But  before  he  did  this  he  got  a 
glimpse  of  a  woman's  skirt.  Still  the  figure 
did  not  utter  a  word.  He  did,  and  it  was  a 
very  prosaic  exclamation  indeed — "  By  Jove  !  " 

And  the  fearless  and  beautiful  face  of  Marie 
St.  Denis,  with  her  soft,  expressive  eyes,  now 
strangely  bright,  looked  questioningly  into  his 
as  he  placed  his  two  hands  instinctively  on  her 
shoulders,  so  as  to  steady  her  face,  and  see 
who  it  was.  She  looked  like  some  spirit  of  the 
night  in  that  dreary  solitude,  haunting  the 
little  speck  of  civilization,  so  silent  was  she  and 
so  unearthly  her  beauty  seemed  with  the  pale 
moonlight  playing  on  it.  Then  she  drew  one 
hand  from  a  beaver  mitt,  and  placed  one  slen- 
der finger  upon  her  lips.  He  interpreted  the 
action.  For  a  minute — only  for  a  minute — a 
painful  warfare  raged  within  this  man— duty, 
and  something  that  he  would  not  admit  to  him- 
self, but  at  the  same  time  which  was  very 
nearly  akin  to  love.  But  what  right  had  he  to 
control  her  actions  ?  Besides,  had  he  not 


Page  SS. 


a  <3irl  will  Bo.  89 

given  her  his  word  that  he  would  not  do  so  ? 
Again,  was  he  doing  right  in  allowing  this  girl 
to  go  out  alone  upon  the  coullee-scarred  and 
treacherous  prairie,  on  to  what  might  be  death  ? 
But  what  was  he,  again,  that  he  should  con- 
stitute himself  her  mentor  ?  As  if  it  cost  him  a 
struggle  to  do  it,  he  took  his  hands  from  off 
her  shoulders.  Turning  abruptly,  and  with 
what  might  have  been  a  curse  or  a  blessing  on 
his  trembling  lips,  he  left  her  without  another 
word. 

When  he  reached  the  stable  door  he  turned 
to  look  after  her ;  but  she  had  vanished  as  com- 
pletely as  if  she  had  been  one  of  those  beauti- 
ful fabled  spirits  of  the  night  whom  she  so  much 
resembled. 


CHAPTER  X. 

A  TERRIBLE  TIME. 

IF  it  had  cost  Harry  Yorke  a  mental  struggle 
to  let  Marie  St.  Denis  go  as  he  did,  he  did  not 
know  that  she  who  was  the  subject  of  it,  with 
her  quick,  intuitive  sense,  fully  realized  the  se- 
riousness of  that  struggle,  and  suffered,  doubt- 
less, as  keenly  as  he  did  himself.  For  the 
sergeant  knew  that  in  allowing  her  to  go  he 
had  voluntarily  relinquished  that  career  in 
which  he  had  distinguished  himself,  and 
through  which  he  had  hoped  to  rise  in  Her 
Majesty's  service.  He  felt  himself  dishonored 
in  his  own  eyes.  He  felt — so  palpable  a  thing 
was  his  sense  of  duty — that  he  was  acting 
treacherously  to  that  officer  under  whose  com- 
mand he  now  was.  He  did  not  try  to  soothe 
his  conscience,  as  many  of  his  comrades  might 
have  done,  by  telling  himself  that  the  brutal 
and  demoralizing  conduct  of  this  officer  was 
such  that  many  good  men  who  had  entered  the 
force  with  the  determination  to  walk  straight 
and  rise  in  it  had  become  so  disheartened,  and 
their  sense  of  duty  so  perverted,  that  to  disobey 
this  officer's  often  questionable  commands  was 
neither  considered  a  disgrace  nor  breach  of 
duty.  It  was  not  the  mere  loss  in  a  worldly 
sense  that  troubled  him  ;  this  disregard  of  him- 
self was  indeed  what  had  kept  him  a  compara- 
tively poor  man.  He  did  not  attempt  to  de- 
fend his  conduct  by  telling  himself  that  he  had 
sacrificed  his  career  for  his  great  pity  for  her — 
which,  indeed,  was  partly  the  case — for  in  his 
conduct  he  was  conscious  of  a  feeling  which,  if 


B  (Terrible  tlime.  91 

it  did  not  altogether  partake  of  that  which  some 
men  call  "  the  unselfishness  of  love,"  still  did 
not  justify  him  in  acting  as  he  did.  For  he 
knew  that  allowing  her  to  go  meant  that  she 
would  in  all  probability  meet  with  her  father 
and  warn  him  of  the  presence  of  the  police,  de- 
feat the  ends  of  justice,  and  bring  discredit  on 
himself.  It  meant  that  when  his  term  of  ser- 
vice had  expired,  in  a  few  months  from  then, 
he  must  look  out  for  some  other  employment : 
he  could  not  remain  in  a  force  that  he  could  not 
be  faithful  to.  He  had  a  little  money;  by 
working  hard,  and  with  economy,  he  might 
even  be  in  a  position  to  start  ranching  in  a  hum- 
ble way.  At  times  he  told  himself  that  he  was 
a  fool,  and  asked  himself  what  this  girl  was  to 
him.  If  she  had  entertained  any  respect  or 
thought  for  him,  would  she  have  asked  him  to 
as  good  as  sacrifice  himself  for  her  ?  But  when 
he  thought  of  a  frail  girl  going  out  alone  at 
midnight  upon  the  bleak  and  blizzard-haunted 
prairie,  where  death  might  spring  up  and  claim 
her  at  any  moment,  with  the  faint  hope  of 
warning  an  erring  father  from  his  danger,  he 
felt  that  to  thwart  such  a  noble  if  natural  deed 
were  a  crime  that  more  than  outweighed  all 
other  considerations.  No,  he  was  human,  but 
he  would  again  do  as  he  had  done  if  he  had 
occasion  to.  Yes,  even  if  he  knew— and,  when 
he  came  to  think  of  it,  she  had  given  him  no 
sign  either  one  way  or  another — he  were  noth- 
ing to  her,  and,  admitting  himself  in  love  with 
her,  he  were  pursuing  an  ignis-fatuus. 

As  for  Marie  St.  Denis,  if  she  thought  at  all 
about  the  risk  she  was  running  in  going  out  as 
she  did  upon  the  prairie  alone,  it  was  now 
swallowed  up  in  weightier  considerations. 
True,  she  knew  something  of  the  treacherous 
nature  of  the  blizzard — how  for  awhile  it  will 
die  away,  and  the  sun  or  moon  will  shine  out 


92  Sinners  tfwafn. 

brightly  again,  only  to  be  suddenly  obscured 
as  the  treacherous,  snow-laden  wind  swoops 
down,  like  a  bird  of  prey,  to  seize  its  hapless 
victim  unawares.  She  remembered  how,  only 
last  winter,  a  Mounted  Policeman  had  been 
caught  thus — how  he  had  wandered  round 
about  in  that  fatal  and  mysterious  circle,  until 
the  stinging,  icy  blast  proved  too  much  for 
him  ;  and  with  the  waning  of  hope  came  that 
wavering  of  mind  and  irresponsibility  over  one's 
own  actions  which,  let  us  believe,  God  sends  in 
His  mercy.  .  .  .  When  his  frozen  body  had 
been  found,  some  days  afterwards,  there  was  a 
bullet-wound  in  his  head  and  a  discharged  pis- 
tol by  his  side.  He  had  anticipated  Death. 
Though  Marie  was  no  fatalist,  she  was  only  a 
woman  who  was  as  sensitive  as  any  other  to 
the  terrors  that  encompass  death,  and  the  mys- 
terious unseen  world  ;  but  she  was  a  heroine  in 
the  truest  sense  of  the  word,  in  that  she  did 
not  hesitate  to  brave  death  and  its  terrors  so 
that  she  might  perform  faithfully  what  she  con- 
sidered her  duty.  There  was  only  one  thing 
that  troubled  her  ;  and  the  more  she  thought  of 
it,  the  more  she  saw  that  in  her  anxiety  to  save 
her  father  she  had  imposed  a  sacrifice  on 
another.  She  was  now  painfully  alive  to  the 
fact  that,  in  his  chivalrous  desire  to  serve  her, 
Harry  Yorke  had  sacrificed  his  worldly  career, 
and,  what  was  doubtless  dearer  to  him,  his  own 
sense  of  honor  and  duty.  Why  had  she  asked 
him  to  compromise  that  sense  of  honor? 
Could  she  not  have  simply  left  the  possibility 
of  his  non-interference  to  that  vague  but  oft- 
times  favorable  influence  men  call  "  Chance," 
and  thus  have  saved  him  ?  She  knew  that  he 
was  a  man  looked  up  to  and  respected  by  all 
ranks  in  his  calling  ;  but  that,  in  asking  him  to 
dp  as  he  had  done,  she  had  withdrawn  from 
him  that  chance  which  might  have  led  to  his 


21  terrible  Sime.  93 

promotion.  Had  this  been  all,  it  were  bad 
enough;  but  she  instinctively  recognized  that 
this  man  valued  something  more  highly  than 
worldly  gain — his  own  honor.  How  could  she, 
she  asked  herself,  who  was  only  a  poor  obscure 
girl,  have  asked  him,  who  had  been  on  terms 
of  intimacy  with  women  belonging  to  that 
other  great  outside  world,  to  do  this  thing? 
For,  though  feeling  she  had  much  in  common 
with  this  man,  she  had  looked  upon  him  as  su- 
perior to  herself  and  apart  from  her  life,  even 
though  he  belonged  only  to  the  rank  and  file  of 
the  North-West  Mounted  Police.  If  pity,  as 
/hey  say,  is  akin  to  love,  then  Marie  St.  Denis 
"  was  in  a  dangerous  way.  But  the  thought  of 
that  father,  whom  she  loved  with  an  intensity 
that  paled  all  other  considerations,  governed 
her  actions  then.  With  a  beating  heart,  and  a 
mind  that  was  swayed  by  conflicting  emotions, 
but  in  which  there  was  still  a  dominant  one, 
she  set  out  on  her  errand. 

And  now  she  hurried  on  her  dangerous  way. 
For  a  mile  or  so  she  kept,  as  best  she  could,  to 
the  long,  narrow,  rib-like  patches  of  exposed 
ground  which  the  wind  had  kept  clear  of  the 
snow,  near  the  banks  of  the  creek.  Occasion- 
ally she  would  spring  from  one  rib  to  another ; 
her  idea  was  to  cause  the  police  some  difficulty 
in  finding  her  tracks  when  they  missed  her  in 
the  morning,  when  she  knew  the  first  thing 
they  would  think  of  doing  would  be  to  follow 
her  up.  Considering  how  long  the  blizzard  had 
lasted  there  was  no  very  great  depth  of  snow, 
save  in  the  drifts  ;  for  it  is  not  the  actual  quan- 
tity of  snow  which  falls  that  constitutes  a  bliz- 
zard, but  the  rate  at  which  the  snow  that  does 
fall  is  hurried  along  and  kept  continually  in  a 
state  of  motion  by  the  fierce  gale.  Perhaps  a 
blizzard  resembles  nothing  so  much  as  a  sand- 
storm in  the  desert.  She  had  the  satisfaction 


94  Sinners  (Twain. 

of  remembering  that  a  man  like  her  father,  who 
knew  the  prairie  so  well,  would  have  no  great 
difficulty  in  finding  ground  comparatively  free 
from  snow  on  which  he  could  travel  with  the 
wagons.  Then  she  left  the  prairie  and  made 
over  to  the  creek,  and  there  slipped  her  feet 
into  the  buckskin  laces  of  the  snowshoes.  It 
was  a  species  of  locomotion  at  which  she  was 
an  adept ;  for  often  had  she  indulged  in  long, 
solitary  walks  thus  in  the  winter-time.  This, 
perhaps,  helped  to  account  for  the  purity  of 
that  wonderful  complexion  of  hers.  A  keen 
frost  had  set  in,  and  there  was  a  stillness  as  of 
death  over  that  ghastly  and  shimmering  moon- 
lit land.  She  followed  the  course  of  the  creek  ; 
for  the  first  two  miles  she  knew  every  foot  of 
the  way,  and,  therefore,  could  avoid  the  cre- 
vasses that  intersected  the  cut-banks.  She 
knew  exactly  the  route  her  father  would  adopt 
coming  back  from  Montana  ;  and  her  idea  had 
been  to  turn  him  back  into  United  States  terri- 
tory before  the  police  could  catch  up  on  him. 
But  she  had  no  premonition  that  the  Fates  had 
decreed  otherwise.  In  order  to  cause  the  po- 
lice delay  when  they  eventually  found  her 
tracks,  she  crossed  and  recrossed  the  creek  at 
certain  places  where  she  knew  the  snow  lay 
many  feet  deep  underneath.  (Loudly  did  the 
over-eager  officer  of  Mounted  Police  curse 
those  treacherous  pitfalls  on  the  morrow.)  She 
wound  in  and  out  amongst  the  thick  clumps  of 
willow  and  elder.  They  would  have  their 
work  cut  out  for  them  who  followed  in  her 
tracks.  She  was  only  human  after  all,  and  she 
could  not  help  laughing  silently  to  herself  at 
times  when,  with  vivid  imagination,  she  pic- 
tured the  inspector  floundering  about  on  his 
horse  in  one  of  these  deep  snowdrifts — perhaps 
nothing  but  his  moonlike  face  visible  above  the 
surface.  When  she  thought  of  the  use  he 


a  terrible  (Time.  95 

would  put  that  unique  vocabulary  of  his  to,  and 
the  number  of  new  and  choice  words  and  ex- 
pressions which  he  would  coin  for  such  occa- 
sions, she  had  actually  to  stop  to  repress  the  fit 
of  laughter  that  would  fain  have  shaken  her. 
But,  at  times,  she  would  experience  twinges  of 
conscience  when  she  asked  herself  if  it  were 
right  to  create  delays  which  might  imperil  the 
lives  of  those  who  had  sacrificed  so  much  to 
help  her.  When  she  contemplated  such  disas- 
trous contingencies  there  was  an  almost  pitiful 
look  of  terror  on  her  face  that  would  doubtless 
have  surprised  her  prospective  victims,  could 
they  have  seen  it.  At  such  times  she  thought 
herself  a  very  wicked  creature  indeed.  Per- 
haps, there  was  a  considerable  spark  of  old 
Mother  Eve  in  her  after  all.  But  the  thought 
of  her  father  would  gradually  overcome  her 
scruples,  and  she  would  push  on  again. 

She  began  to  realize  she  had  traveled  some 
considerable  distance,  and  was  feeling  tired.  She 
sat  down  on  a  rising  piece  of  ground  and  looked 
around.  What  a  weird,  unearthly  landscape 
showed  up  all  around  her !  She  could  follow  the 
dark,  uncertain  line  of  the  creek,  as  it  wandered, 
in  an  erratic  sort  of  fashion,  away  into  that  mys- 
tic and  shadowy  landscape,  until  it  was  lost  in 
dim  obscurity.  But  towering,  as  it  were,  into  that 
starlit  other  world,  she  could  see  the  three  con- 
ical peaks  of  the  Sweet  Grass  Hills  looking 
down  upon  that  spectral  land  beneath  them. 
They  seemed  very  beautiful  and  grand,  very 
solemn  and  majestic.  There  must  have  been 
in  Marie  St.  Denis'  nature  that  susceptibility  to 
what  is  beautiful  in  Nature — that  responsive 
note  which  indicates  that  the  soul  is  capable  of 
receiving  those  deeper  and  sublimer  lessons 
from  God's  own  handiwork.  As  she  looked 
upon  these  snow-clad  peaks  soaring  heaven- 
wards, her  whole  being  was  stirred  with  a 


96  Sinners  Gwain. 

sense  of  the  eternal,  and  the  majesty  of  that 
Presence  which  created  all  things.  .  For  a  brief 
space  the  very  sight  of  these  hills  seemed  to 
give  her  fresh  strength  and  courage.  But,  alas ! 
tired  Nature  would  reassert  herself.  It  was  the 
old  story  of  the  willing  spirit  and  the  weak  flesh. 
For  two  nights  she  had  not  slept  a  wink. 
Hope  had  buoyed  her  up  ;  but,  as  stern  reality 
dispelled  hope,  the  reaction  of  her  physical  body 
set  in ;  and  subtly  and  mercifully  was  the 
change  brought  about.  She  began  to  be  con- 
scious, at  times,  of  being  the  victim  of  her  own 
fancies. 

And  now  she  came  to  a  place  where  she  had 
to  push  through  a  deep,  narrow  gorge,  which 
opened  out  into  an  amphitheatre-like  space 
where  there  was  a  thicket  of  cotton-wood  trees, 
and  which  had  been  used  in  the  old  days  as  a 
burying  ground  for  the  Indians.  It  was  a 
horrible  place,  and  even  this  healthy,  prairie- 
bred  girl  experienced  that  sense  of  awe  and 
fear  which  will  steal  over  one — unless  one  is 
dead  to  all  human  emotions — when  one  is  in  the 
presence  of  relics  of  mortality.  This  little 
valley,  surrounded  by  high  banks,  had  an  evil 
reputation.  Some  renegade  Sioux  or  Piegan 
Indians  had  some  few  years  before  committed 
some  bloody  atrocities  near  this  spot,  and  the 
dead  had  been  buried  here.  Upon  rude  plat- 
forms were  ranged  human  bodies  wrapped  in 
buffalo  robes  and  blankets,  which  were  now 
coated  and  crusted  with  drifting  snow.  The 
great  gaunt,  scraggy  branches  of  the  leafless 
trees,  and  that  significant  scaffolding  with  its 
awful  burdens,  when  viewed  from  the  frozen 
bed  of  the  creek  on  which  she  walked,  stood 
out  with  a  horrible  distinctness  against  the  star- 
lit sky.  Time,  or  the  bears,  had  broken  down 
some  of  these  stages,  and  she  knew  that  hid- 
eous, shapeless  and  unnameable  things  lay 


B  terrible  Gime.  97 

strewn  around  and  partially  buried  in  the  snow. 
It  was  a  veritable  Golgotha.  And  now  a  cold 
shiver  ran  through  the  frame  of  the  girl  as  she 
lifted  her  eyes  and  gazed  fearfully  up  at  a  num- 
ber of  grinning  skulls  which  a  playful  Mounted 
Policeman,  or  wandering  cowboy  of  a  decora- 
tive turn  of  mind,  had  fixed  on  the  scraggy 
limb  of  a  gaunt  and  blasted  oak  tree.  Even  as 
the  girl  looked  there  rose  a  weird,  eerie  moan 
on  the  still  night,  and  a  startling  crash  that 
drove  the  blood  to  her  heart,  and  chilled  the 
surface  of  her  body.  In  spite  of  herself  she 
sank  down  on  her  knees,  and  clasping  her  hands 
before  her,  muttered  a  prayer  as  best  she 
could.  Marie  was  not  naturally  timid ;  but 
that  place  had  an  evil  reputation,  and  the  law 
of  association  is  a  powerful  thing.  But  it  was 
only  a  stray  breath  of  wind,  straying  down  the 
gorge,  that  had  caused  the  moaning;  and  the 
weight  of  the  snow  upon  one  of  these  awful 
burdens  had  been  too  much  for  the  rotten  sup- 
ports, and  had  borne  it  with  a  crash  to  the 
ground.  For  a  moment  she  felt  as  if  her 
strength  had  deserted  her;  she  was  left  weak 
and  trembling.  But  the  thought  of  her  father 
and  the  danger  he  was  in  came  to  her  aid ; 
tremblingly  she  rose  from  the  snow-covered 
ice  and  went  on  again,  but  with  weary  steps. 

It  grew  colder  and  colder,  the  thermometer 
must  have  dropped  to  at  least  20°  below  zero, 
and  King  Frost  was  doing  his  best,  or  worst,  to 
paralyze  every  living  thing.  But  still  Marie 
could  not  be  said  to  surfer  from  cold ;  she  only 
began  to  feel  strangely  drowsy  and  at  times 
caught  herself  walking  in  an  almost  trance-like 
state.  That  subtle  and  fatal  land  of  forgetful- 
ness,  which  she  knew  was  exercising  its  potent 
spell  over  her,  aroused  her  to  renewed  exertion. 
At  last  she  passed  out  of  that  loathsome  valley 
where  the  high  ground  ceased,  and  stood  once 


98  Stnnere  Swain. 

more  upon  the  banks  of  the  creek  on  the  rolling 
prairie. 

And  now,  with  heavy  and  ever  weakening 
steps,  the  girl  ascended  a  little  ridge  where  she 
could  get  a  good  view  of  the  surrounding 
country.  But  as  far  as  the  eye  could  penetrate 
in  that  clear  moonlight  there  was  nothing  in 
sight.  She  had  told  herself  that  at  this  point 
she  must  necessarily  see  some  signs  of  her 
father's  approach  with  the  teams,  and  that  hope 
had  buoyed  her  up  till  then.  She  was  bitterly 
disappointed.  She  had  walked  for  several 
miles,  and  now  what  was  she  to  do?  Could 
she  go  back  without  having  seen  her  father, 
and  listen  to  the  low-minded  taunts  of  the 
Mounted  Police  officer?  Or  would  she  wait 
there,  in  the  hope  that  her  father  might  soon 
come  up  ;  running  the  risk  of  that  insidious 
death-sleep,  which  even  then  threatened  her  ? 
As  for  going  back  :  when  she  came  to  think  of 
it,  she  felt  utterly  unable  for  the  task.  And 
now  the  real  nature  of  Marie  began  to  show 
itself.  She  hardly  for  a  moment  thought  of 
that  fate  which  might  so  soon  overtake  her. 
She  had  none  of  that  enervating,  half-pitying 
compassion  for  herself  in  the  abstract  that  some 
less  unselfish  ones  have.  She  did  not  even 
regret  the  step  she  had  taken,  though  it  now 
threatened  her  life.  She  only  knew  that  if  she 
had  not  come  on  this  vain  errand  she  would 
have  regretted  the  staying  behind  still  more. 
Her  only  thoughts  were  for  her  father ;  but  as 
her  eyes  wandered  over  the  ghastly  prospect, 
her  heart  sank  within  her. 

At  last,  in  the  east,  the  grey  dawn  was 
breaking ;  the  stars  began  to  disappear,  one  by 
one,  like  lights  in  a  great  city  at  break  of  day. 
A  thin,  ghost-like  mist  began  to  creep  from 
butte  to  coullee  across  the  billowy  prairie,  like 
the  phantom  sea  that  it  was.  It  hung  low, 


B  tterrfble  atme.  99 

and  converted  the  tops  of  the  little  buttes  and 
ridges  into  mimic  islands,  until  the  earth  some- 
what resembled  one  of  those  landscapes  that 
the  imaginative  mind  will  conjure  up  in  the 
clouds.  But,  away  to  the  left,  a  couple  of  miles 
off  the  girl  saw  a  unique  sight.  She  saw  the 
entrance  to  the  Devil's  Playground  :  that  weird, 
nightmarish  valley,  into  which  the  boldest 
Indian  will  not  enter,  but  only  gaze  upon  fear- 
fully from  the  brink  of  the  chasm.  Constitu- 
ting the  portals  of  this  valley,  the  girl  saw 
gigantic  pillar-like  masses  of  vitrified  clay  that 
resembled  the  painted  pillars  in  some  vast 
gorgeous  and  barbaric  old-world  temple. 
Indeed,  the  variety  and  originality  of  coloring 
in  these  pillars  was  beautiful  if  bewildering  in 
effect.  Just  beyond  them  lurked,  reproduced 
in  colored  clays,  these  wonderful  freaks  of 
Nature  :  the  forms  of  monstrous  and  grotesque 
animals,  whose  shapes  startled  one  with  a  sug- 
gestion of  intelligent  design.  From  the  painted 
and  garish  terraces  themselves  prejected  griffins 
and  gargoyles,  just  as  one  sees  them  in  old  and 
quaint  cathedrals,  but  only  more  grotesque  and 
suggestive  by  reason  of  their  vivid  coloring. 

The  girl  looked  longingly  towards  the  portals 
of  this  valley  of  freaks ;  but  she  could  see  no 
sign  of  any  living  thing  near  them.  She  had 
thought  that  the  smugglers  might  have  taken 
shelter  there  from  the  fury  of  the  blizzard.  But 
had  they  done  so  she  thought  that,  by  this  time, 
they  would  have  begun  their  journey  again  so 
as  to  pass  the  police  lines  ere  the  sun  rose. 
"  Oh,  father,  father !  "  she  cried,  and  the  unbid- 
den tears  started  to  her  eyes. 

Then  her  brain,  or  old  King  Death,  played 
her  a  strange  trick.  But  not  by  any  means  an 
unusual  one.  For  those  who  have  been  in  the 
very  jaws  of  death,  and  have  been  snatched 
back,  can  tell  some  marvellous  tales.  Marvel- 


ioo  Sinners  Gwafn. 

lous  because  they  are  utterly  foreign  to  our  pre- 
conceived notions  of  the  King  of  Terrors. 
Especially  can  those  who  have  passed  the 
Rubicon — the  painful  stage  of  mental  and  physi- 
cal suffering — and  whose  feet  have  trod  the 
mystic  threshold  of  the  Unknown :  whether 
they  are  lost  ones  on  the  African  desert,  in  the 
Australian  bush,  castaways  at  sea,  or  the  van- 
quished victims  of  some  fell  disease.  It  is, 
indeed,  a  merciful  thing,  and  shows  how  won- 
derfully and  fearfully  we  are  made,  to  think 
that  the  brain  comes  eventually  to  our  aid,  to 
take  somewhat  away  from  the  agony  of  death, 
and  rob  it,  as  it  were,  of  some  of  the  terror  it 
would  fain  inspire.  So  now  with  Marie  St. 
Denis;  for  gradually  there  stole  a  wonderful 
peace  of  mind — something  that  almost  ap- 
proached a  physical  glow  over  her ;  the  present 
with  its  horror  passed  utterly  away,  and  this 
was  the  vision  she  had  in  its  stead  : — 

It  was  a  bright  summer's  day ;  the  prairie 
was  gay  and  beautiful  with  its  very  brightest 
carpet  of  green,  and  its  choicest  display  of  wild 
flowers.  There  were  the  lilies  that  outshone 
the  glory  of  Solomon,  and  the  pink  and  cluster- 
ing roses  that  glowed  as  must  have  done  the 
roses  of  Sharon  to  have  made  their  beauty 
scriptural.  There  were  the  nodding  sunflowers 
winking  in  the  gentle  breeze,  like  so  many  eyes 
of  fire,  the  blue  larkspurs,  the  yellow  and  purple 
violets,  blue  bells  and  a  hundred  other  flowers, 
perhaps  as  beautiful,  but  not  so  familiar  as  these 
more  common  ones.  No  wonder  they  say  that 
on  the  prairie  there  is  a  flower  for  every  day  in 
the  year.  Close  to  the  trail  a  great  wagon  is 
camped,  with  a  white  canvas  top  to  it.  Some 
little  distance  off  the  horses,  released  from  their 
toil,  are  rolling  in  the  grass  and  throwing  their 
legs  wildly  into  the  air  in  the  most  grotesque 
and  extravagant  fashion,  in  their  endeavor  to 


B  {Terrible  {Time.  101 

roll  from  one  side  to  another.    And  she  is 
crawling  about  on  the  grass,  with  one  hand 

grasping  the  gathered  skirt  that  holds  the 
pwers  she  has  been  plucking.  Close  to  her,  on 
his  hands  and  knees  like  a  great  overgrown 
school-boy,  is  her  father,  with  smiles  wreathing 
that  usually  sad  and  austere  face.  She  had 
made  him  stoop  down  before  her,  and  like  the 
playful  child  she  is,  she  has  stuck  a  fringe  of 
flowers  into  the  band  of  his  broad  cow-boy  hat, 
and  is  now  endeavoring  to  string  a  chain  of 
daisies  round  his  neck.  All  the  children  of  Eve 
pursue  the  same  methods  of  play  the  world  over. 
And  this  grave,  bearded  man  is  looking  as  proud 
of  that  chain  as  if  it  were  of  gold,  and  she  were 
the  heir  to  the  throne  decorating  him.  As 
proud  ? — prouder  by  far !  for  there  is  no  pride 
on  earth  to  compare  to  that  of  a  father  in  his 
only  child.  She  is  happy  as  the  day  is  long. 
Ay,  long — but  never  too  long  for  them ! 

Then  a  sudden  shock,  and  her  dream 
shivered.  She  had  slipped  back  into  a  recum- 
bent position  on  the  snow,  and  the  sudden 
movement  roused  her  for  a  brief  spell.  With  a 
lightning-like  flash  the  brain  realized  the  danger 
of  the  situation,  and  urged  the  weakened  body 
to  renewed  exertion.  But  it  was  powerless  to 
respond. 

Was  this,  then,  the  end  of  her  young  life? — 
she,  who  had  cherished  such  dreams  and  hopes 
of  the  future.  Was  she  to  perish  like  one  of 
the  beasts  of  the  field,  on  that  desolate  snow- 
bound ridge  ?  Were  the  birds  of  the  air,  and 
the  jackals  of  the  plain — the  prairie  and  timber 
wolves— to  fight  over  her  poor  body  ?  A  thing 
so  fair  as  she  were  rare  prey  for  such  evil-look- 
ing brutes  as  wolves.  Even  now,  far  off,  but 
ever  drawing  nearer,  she  heard  a  mournful  and 
prolonged  eerie  cry,  and  she  knew  that  already 
a  wolf  was  upon  her  tracks.  She  had  a  small 


102  Sinners  {Twain. 

revolver  on  her  belt ;  but,  perhaps,  it  was  not 
worth  while  using  it.  Poor  Marie,  well  might 
she  pray ;  for  that  sleep  which  means  death  was 
very  close  upon  her  now. 

And  then  rose  up  before  her  that  face  that 
had  so  often  smiled  upon  her  in  her  dreams, 
and  she  knew  it  was  her  mother's  face,  that 
dear  mother  whom  she  had  lost  so  long  ago 
that  her  image  had  become  but  a  sacred  mem- 
ory. Then  the  face  of  her  father,  that  face  so 
full  of  simple  tenderness,  seemed  to  look  down 
upon  her,  and  a  struggling  gleam  of  semi- 
consciousness  shook  her  for  a  few  minutes  with 
a  tempest  of  agony,  as  she  pictured  him  all 
alone  in  the  world,  without  any  one  to  love — 
without  any  one  to  strengthen  or  care  for  him, 
and  with  only  the  memory  of  a  fitfully  sunny 
past  behind  him.  Surely  this  was  the  agony 
and  sting  of  death. 

Death  ! — she  must  rouse  herself.  It  was  a 
sinful  thing  to  let  death  steal  upon  her  with  its 
subtle  visions  and  lethargy  !  She  would  break 
the  spell ;  if  she  died  it  would  be  upon  her 
feet.  But,  horror  !  the  muscles  of  her  body  re- 
fused to  obey  the  commands  of  the  brain.  She 
could  not  move ! 

But  just  before  the  mists  lifted  before  the 
rays  of  that  wintry  sun  she  seemed  to  hear,  as 
if  in  the  air,  but  wonderfully  clearly  and  dis- 
tinctly, that  majestic  and  triumphant  song  of 
adoration,  the  Hallelujah  Chorus.  She  had 
heard  it  in  the  convent :  it  had  haunted  her 
since,  and  now  it  came  as  if  to  lighten  her  end. 
She  heard  myriads  of  voices — beautiful  voices  : 
the  silvery  voices  of  women,  the  voices  of  boys, 
and  the  resonant  and  maturer  voices  of  man- 
hood, blend  together  with  the  pealing  notes  of 
the  King  of  Instruments,  until  they  spoke  as 
one  in  harmonious  concord  :  with  a  sweetness 
that  ravished  her  senses,  and  permeated  her 
whole  being. 


21  terrible  Gime.  103 

"  Hallelujah  !  For  the  Lord  God  omnipotent 
reigneth ! ''  they  all  cried  together,  with  one 
mighty  and  resonant  volume  of  sound  :  with 
one  joyous  burst  of  triumph  and  of  gladness. 
And  the  basses  heralding  the  clarion-like  voices 
of  the  sopranos  sang,  "  And  He  shall  reign  for 
ever  and  ever." 

Then  the  tenors  and  the  basses  cried  "  Halle- 
lujah /  Hallelujah  !  "  The  silvery  altos,  and 
the  mellow  contraltos  glided  into  the  ever- 
growing melody  with — "for  ever,  and  ever, 
King  of  Kings  and  Lord  of  Lords." 

And  that  mighty,  fugual,  soul-stirring  chorus 
rolled  on ;  the  beautiful  lights  and  shades  of 
the  theme  pursuing,  meeting,  and  crossing  one 
another  transversely  like  the  shafts  of  pearly, 
silvery  and  rosy  light,  that  play  upon  the  face 
of  the  Aurora  under  a  Northern  sky.  It  was 
many-throated,  many  tongued,  but  with  one 
soul  only.  It  was  a  mosaic  of  sound — the  voice 
of  the  Creator  speaking  through  the  creature. 

It  was  a  glorious  Paean — a  fitting  death 
hymn  for  one  so  young  and  beautiful. 

And  now,  ere  that  insidious  death-sleep  dulled 
her  wandering  senses — robbing  her  even  of  that 
land  of  dreams  and  shadows,  and  ere  her  eye- 
lids closed  over  the  wells  of  liquid  light,  she 
heard  these  words  so  full  of  a  divine  promise — 

"  Andtho'  worms  destroy  this  body,  yet  in  my 
flesh  shall  I  see  God. " 

Surely  the  angels  of  Light  were  bending  over 
her  then — so  fair  and  peaceful  her  young  face 
seemed,  and  hid  the  grim  shadow  of  the  Angel 
of  Death  as  he  hovered  over  her. 

"  But,  thanks  be  to  God,  who  giveth  us  the 
Victory,"  chanted  all  the  voices  together. 

The  lemon-glow  that  trembled  in  the  east 
died  at  the  sun's  first  kiss.  A  blush,  as  subtle 
as  the  tender  red  that  dyes  a  maiden's  cheek, 
spread  over  earth  and  sky.  The  stars  grew 


104  Sinners  Gwafn. 

dim,  and  blended  with  the  blue.     The  grey 
mists    lifted  from    the    spectral   earth.    That 
dream  of  glory  round  the   Ice-king's  throne 
shivered — the  way  of  dreams. 
And  then  the  girl  slept. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

"GET  ON   HER  TRAIL,   PIERRE." 

WHEN  Harry  Yorke,  the  police  sergeant, 
had  gone  to  the  stable  when  ordered  to  do  so 
by  his  superior  officer,  he  found  that  all  the 
horses  were  lying  down  in  their  stalls,  peace- 
fully dozing  like  so  many  respectable  human 
beings.  Jamie  had  said  that  he  heard  them 
pounding  the  cobble-stones  violently;  but  as 
the  floor  happened  to  be  a  mud  one,  it  is  only 
charitable  to  suppose  that  the  officer  must  have 
forgotten  this  fact,  and  that  his  imagination 
must  have  been  uncommonly  active.  He  waited 
in  the  stable  for  some  little  time,  and  then  went 
back  to  the  room  where  his  comrades  were. 
According  to  his  instructions  he  told  the  in- 
spector that  the  blizzard  had  ceased.  As  he 
had  expected,  the  latter  gave  him  some  fresh 
orders. 

"  Then,  open  the  door,"  said  the  humanita- 
rian, "  and  wake  up  Townley  and  Pierre,  and 
the  three  of  you  keep  a  sharp  look  out  on  the 
opposite  door,  so  that  none  of  these  women  can 
pass  out  without  you  seeing  them.  Keep  pinch- 
ing the  third  man  so  that  you  will  be  able  to 
keep  awake." 

A  fool  may  have  humor  which  wise  men  may 
laugh  over,  but  the  wit  of  the  cruel  and  crafty 
is  like  a  nettle,  it  has  a  sting  for  all.  The  hand 
that  crushes  is  the  proper  one  to  handle  it. 

The  sergeant  reluctantly  did  as  he  was  or- 
dered ;  the  three  watchers,  putting  some  fresh 
fuel  on  the  fire,  began  their  weary  vigil,  and 
Jamie  began  to  snore. 


io6  Sinners  Gwaln. 

All  inclination  to  sleep  had  been  effectually 
banished  from  the  sergeant's  eyes.  How  could 
he  sleep  with  the  thought  of  that  poor  girl  out 
upon  the  snow-bound  prairie  ?  At  times  it 
was  very  noticeable  to  the  other  two  watchers 
that  he  betrayed  considerable  impatience  as  the 
night,  or  rather  the  morning,  wore  on.  Some- 
times he  got  up,  and  silently  paced  the  hut — 
the  officer  was  now  sound  asleep— and  once  or 
twice  he  went  out  and,  opening  the  outer  door, 
looked  into  the  semi-darkness  and  listened. 
Towards  morning,  as  if  his  impatience  impelled 
him  to  ac  tion,  he  went  out  into  the  stable  and 
remained  there  about  an  hour.  On  coming  in 
again,  a  gust  of  cold  air,  like  a  tangible  pres- 
ence and  which  cut  like  a  knife,  came  in  with 
him,  and  awoke  Jamie. 

"  The  deuce  " — only  he  put  it  more  forcibly 
— "  take  you,  Yorke  ;  were  you  born  in  a  barn  ?  " 
snapped  the  Amiable  One. 

"  Daylight  is  coming,  sir,"  said  the  sergeant, 
ignoring  his  superior's  polite  request  for  infor- 
mation. 

"  It's  coming,  is  it  ?  "  cried  Jamie,  irritably, 
and  it  is  only  charitable  to  say,  half  awake. 

"  Well,  then,  let  it  come,  and  be  d d  to 

it!" 

At  this  slightly  irrelevant  but  characteristic 
speech,  that  was  delivered  in  a  thick  and  inco- 
herent voice,  which  a  man  who  had  been  hav- 
ing more  to  drink  than  was  good  for  him  might 
adopt,  the  scout,  in  spite  of  himself,  broke  into 
a  loud  succession  of  snorts  which  sounded  sus- 
piciously. 

"  What  the  devil's  the  matter  with  you  now, 
Pierre  ?  "  asked  Jamie,  querulously.  "  Got  an 
attack  of  the  colic  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  answered  Pierre,  gravely.  He 
had  just  managed  to  check  himself.  "  And  it 
is  a  maladie  terrible,  and  will  many  times  occa- 


"  <3et  on  Der  {Trail,  Pierre."       107 

sion  me  considerable  distress.     The  worst  of  it 
is,  it  will  proceed  for  me  at  such  odd  times." 

"  Humph  !    Horses  fed  ?  "  asked  Jamie. 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  and  stables  cleaned  out,"  ans- 
wered the  sergeant. 

The  private  and  the  scout  exchanged  glances ; 
but  as  it  was  no  uncommon  thing  in  the  police 
force  for  non-commissioned  officers  to  turn 
their  hands  to,  on  occasions,  they  thought  no 
more  about  it. 

Just  then  there  came  a  knock  at  the  door, 
and  the  voice  of  old  Jeannette  was  heard  in- 
quiring for  the  sergeant.  She  asked  the  latter 
if  he  would  come  into  the  kitchen  for  a  minute, 
as  she  wished  to  speak  to  him.  The  sergeant 
hastened  to  grant  her  request. 

Jeannette,  who  was  considerably  agitated, 
turned  to  him  and  spoke  as  soon  as  he  entered 
the  kitchen. 

"  My  Marie,"  she  said,  "  she  has  gone  through 
the  night — do  you  think  there  is  any  danger  ? 
Ah  !  I  see  you  know  of  it.  Why  did  you  let  her 
go  ?  She  may  perish.  Fool  that  I  was  not  to 
even  know  she  would  try  it  as  soon  as  the  bliz- 
zard went  down.  But  it  may  have  risen  again 
during  the  night.  You  must  follow  up  her 
tracks,  though  it  is  to  fall  in  with  her  father. 
Ah,  ma  cherie  !  ma  pauvre  enfant  !  it  is  some 
harm  will  come  to  you  !  But  I  will  myself 
go " 

"  Steady,  Jeannette  ! "  said  the  sergeant.  "I 
will  go."  For  at  that  moment  the  fear  that  had 
been  troubling  him  one  half  the  night  took 
shape  and  rose  up  before  him.  And  that  was, 
if  the  girl  kept  on  traveling  expecting  to  meet 
her  father  but  did  not,  and  were  she  unable  to 
return  :  or  a  little  wind  sprung  up  that  would 
obliterate  her  tracks  and  prevent  them  follow- 
ing her,  she  must  inevitably  perish.  The 
thought  chilled  his  heart. 


io8  Sinners  {Twain. 

Just  then  there  came  a  furious  pounding  at 
the  door,  and  a  voice  that  there  was  no  mistak- 
ing cried 

"  Hilloa  there,  Yorke  !  Darn  you,  Yorke  ! 
What  the  dickens  is  the  matter  with  the 
women  ?  " 

The  sergeant  went  to  the  door  and  opened 
it. 

"  Nothing,  sir,"  he  answered,  "  only  one  of 
them  has  gone  during  the  night — Mademoiselle 
St.  Denis," 

"  What  !  and  us  watching  the  door  !  Well, 
of  all  the  artful  young —  "  But  for  once  in  his 
experience  Jamie's  vocabulary  of  opprobrious 
terms  failed  to  furnish  him  with  a  word  vile 
enough  to  suit  him.  He  mumbled  strangely. 
Then  surprise  and  mortification  silenced  him. 
But,  in  an  unguarded  moment,  he  pushed  past 
the  sergeant,  and  made  for  Marie's  bedroom. 
At  the  same  moment  Dick  Townley  and  the 
scout,  alarmed  by  the  outcry  Jamie  had  raised, 
entered  the  kitchen  to  find  out  what  all  the 
trouble  was  about. 

Unfortunately  for  the  officer,  he  had  forgotten 
the  warning  he  had  received  on  two  former  oc- 
casions regarding  the  entering  of  the  kitchen. 
And  now,  before  Jeannette  had  almost  time  to 
recover  from  her  astonishment,  the  commis- 
sioned cad  had  entered  the  bedroom  of  the  girl, 
had  begun  to  pull  about  the  bedclothes,  to 
throw  them  on  the  floor,  and  to  get  down  on 
his  knees,  and  peer  under  the  bed. 

With  a  cry  and  a  spring,  like  that  of  a 
wounded  animal,  the  half-breed  woman  made 
for  the  stove  ;  snatched  from  it  a  burning  fagot 
of  wood  ;  with  her  spare  hand  seized  the  iron 
dipper  full  of  hot  water — which  indeed  had 
never  been  off  the  stove— and  darted  into 
Marie's  room  after  the  officer.  The  sergeant 
endeavored  to  stop  her  by  getting  between  her 


"<3et  on  1ber  Grail,  Pierre."       109 

and  the  officer  ;  but  she  thrust  the  burning 
fagot  into  his  face  till  it  singed  his  moustache 
and  eyelashes. 

"  Tenez-vous  la  !  Back,  you  ! "  she  cried, 
and  the  gleaming  of  her  black  eyes  betrayed 
her  Primitive  fiery  origin ;  "  back,  as  you 
value  your  life  !  I  should  be  sorry  to  hurt  you 
whom  I  have  no  quarrel  with. " 

And  now  that  ignoble  day  of  reckoning, 
which  all  blasphemers  and  bullies  bring  upon 
themselves,  came  to  Jamie  ;  and  it  came  at  the 
hands  of  the  sex  for  which  he  had  so  little 
respect. 

Jeannette  surprised  the  officer  in  the  little 
room, 

"  Parbleu !  "  she  hissed  between  her  teeth. 
"  Cogutn  !  You  blackguard,  low  man — you 
would  dare  enter  the  room  of  my  dear  mistress, 
would  you  ?  " 

"  Stand  back,  woman  !  Stand  back,  you 
demned  tiger-cat  !  Do  you  know  who  I  am  ?  " 
cried  Jamie,  the  thought  of  the  exalted  position 
which  political  influence  had  won  for  him  sug- 
gesting itself  to  him.  "  I  am  an  officer " 

Swish!  went  the  scalding  water  over  his 
coarse,  cowardly  face  ;  but  he  partly  saved  him- 
self by  throwing  up  his  hands.  In  a  second  he 
had  caught  up  some  bedclothes  so  as  to  throw 
them  over  her.  But  she  was  too  quick  for  him, 
and  down  came  the  burning  billet  of  wood 
upon  his  broad  shoulders.  The  sergeant, 
alarmed  for  the  safety  of  his  superior,  essayed 
another  rush  in  upon  her.  But  he  received  a 
sharp  rap  on  the  head — just  meant  as  a  gentle 
hint  to  him  to  mind  his  own  business — that 
caused  him  to  stagger  out  of  the  room  again. 
Dick  Townley  and  the  scout  merely  looked  on. 
They  would  hardly  have  moved  one  finger  to 
save  their  officer  from  his  well-merited  dis- 
grace, even  though  ordered  to.  It  was  an  illus- 


i  io  Sinners  {Twain. 

tration  upon  a  small  scale  of  the  truth  conveyed 
in  these  verses  of  Tennyson's  beginning  with — 

"  He  who  rules  by  terror,  doth  grievous  wrong." 

It  is  safe  to  say  that  if  Dick  Townley  felt 
ashamed  of  the  cloth  he  wore  just  then,  he, 
otherwise,  enjoyed  himself. 

Then  the  officer  clutched  at,  and  succeeded 
in  wrenching  the  billet  of  wood  from  Jeannette's 
hand.  But  she  pounced  on  him  like  the  ti- 
gress that  she  was  ;  tore  his  hair,  and  scratched 
him  after  the  most  approved  style  of  Chinamen 
and  women  in  general.  She  was  a  strong 
woman  ;  she  cuffed  and  buffeted  him,  knocked 
his  head  against  the  wall,  and  when  at  last  the 
sergeant  and  the  other  two  men  thought  it  fit 
to  interfere,  and  pull  her  off  her  prey,  a  more 
sorry  and  wretched-looking  specimen  of  human- 
ity than  Jamie  could  not  well  be  imagined. 
As  the  three  men  held  her,  the  officer,  with  a 
look  of  mingled  terror  and  rage  on  his  face, 
seized  the  smouldering  billet  of  wood,  and  ad- 
vanced upon  her  as  if  to  strike  her  with  it. 

"  Down  with  that  billet  of  wood  !  "  thundered 
the  sergeant.  "  Damn  it,  would  you  strike  a 
woman  who  is  being  held  ?  " 

Jamie  started  back  transfixed  with  astonish- 
ment. Such  unparalleled  insolence  and  rank 
insubordination  he  had  never  met  with  before. 
But  he  stayed  his  hand.  That  look  in  the  ser- 
geant's eye  was  ominously  like  the  light  that 
glowed  in  that  mad  half-breed  woman's.  He 
only  stammered — 

"  You  heard  that,  Townley  ?  You  heard  what 
the  sergeant  said  ?  " 

"  Heard  what  ?  "  said  the  private  ;  "  I  heard 
him  remind  you,  in  the  most  humble  and  civil 
manner,  that  you  were  an  officer  of  the  North- 
West  Mounted  Police,  and  that  it  was  a  woman 


44  (Set  on  1ber  Stall,  Pierre."       m 

you  wanted  to  strike  with  a  billet  of  wood, 
when  she  was  being  held.  Oh,  I'll  swear  to 
that  ! " 

The  officer  groaned. 

"  Pierre,"  he  cried,  in  a  frenzied  way,  "  you 
heard  the  sergeant  damn  me  ;  didn't  you  ?  " 

"  I  heard  you  damn  the  sergeant,"  answered 
the  scout,  testily ;  "  and  I  saw  you  kick  a 
woman.  I  think  it  would  be  your  wisest  plan 
your  tongue  to  hold  ! " 

"  Oh,  Je — rusalem  !  "  cried  the  officer. 

"  I  would  beg  of  you,  sir,  to  leave  the  room," 
said  the  sergeant.  "  You  see,  we  can't  hold 
the  woman  here  all  day  ;  and  I  suppose  you 
will  want  to  start  off  after  the  girl." 

The  sorely  discomfited  officer  thought — as 
best  he  could— that  it  was  the  better  thing  to  do 
under  the  circumstances,  and  left  the  room. 
He  was  also  somewhat  apprehensive  lest 
Jeannette  should  break  loose  again,  and  be 
after  him ;  and  this  was  a  contingency  to  be 
guarded  against.  No  sooner  had  the  officer 
left  than  Harry  Yorke  placed  the  now  per- 
fectly passive  woman  gently  in  a  chair.  A 
reaction  had  set  in,  and  her  demeanor  under- 
went a  complete  change.  She  was  now  indulg- 
ing in  a  hearty  cry.  "  Oh,  to  think  that  I 
should  have  lowered  myself  like  that,"  she 
sobbed.  "  But  to  hear  that  villain  talk  of  my 

young  mistress  as  he  did "  and  here  she 

could  not  find  words  to  express  her  indigna- 
tion. 

"  You  have  made  him  pay  for  it,  Jeannette," 
said  Yorke.  "  And,  by  Jove  !  I  suppose  it's 
rank  treason  for  me  to  say  so,  but,  as  my  supe- 
rior officer,  I'm  heartily  ashamed  of  him. 
Thank  goodness  I've  only  a  couple  of  months 
more  to  put  in  now  ;  for  I  could  not  stand 
much  more  of  this  sort  of  thing." 

In  the  meantime  the  scout  had  gone  out  and 


ii2  Sinners  {Twain. 

fetched  a  supply  of  firewood  in  for  Jeannette  ; 
then  he  lifted  away  the  box  of  ashes  for  her 
from  her  stove.  The  trooper  took  the  water 
buckets  and,  taking  them  to  the  well,  filled 
them.  As  for  Jeannette,  she  was  a  kind- 
hearted  if  impulsive  soul,  and  these  simple 
little  actions  touched  her.  She  was  now 
heartily  ashamed  of  her  late  outbreak,  being 
usually  the  best  tempered  of  women— though 
like  the  best  tempered,  the  most  dangerous 
when  roused — but  still  she  kept  lamenting  about 
Marie.  So  in  order  to  facilitate  matters,  and 
hurry  them  out  to  follow  up  the  tracks  of  her 
young  mistress,  she  herself  prepared  breakfast 
for  them  while  they  were  saddling  up.  After 
a  somewhat  hurried  meal,  they  were  in  the  sad- 
dle once  more.  Jamie,  by  this  time,  had  some- 
what recovered  his  equanimity  :  he  thought  that 
by  following  up  the  tracks  of  the  girl  he  would 
come  upon  her  father,  and  make  an  easy  cap- 
ture ;  this  raised  his  spirits.  As  he  had  little 
sense  of  shame,  the  light  in  which  he  had  so 
lately  figured  soon  ceased  to  trouble  him.  The 
marks  of  Jeannette 's  finger  nails,  and  the  place 
where  the  billet  of  wood  had  struck  him,  how- 
ever, kept  on  troubling.  They  promised  to 
keep  the  incident  green  in  "his  memory  for  some 
little  time.  But  he  was  one  of  those  men  whom 
it  is  difficult  to  insult,  an  absence  of  self-respect 
rendering  such  a  contingency  almost  an  impos- 
sibility. He  had,  however,  sufficient  sense  to 
see  that  he  had  not  figured  in  a  particularly 
creditable  light,  and  that  the  private  and  the 
scout  would  back  up  the  non-com,  in  a  matter  of 
evidence.  He  therefore  determined  to  bide  his 
time  and  "  land  all  three,"  as  he  felicitously  put 
it  to  himself,  in  some  other  way. 

"  Get  on  her  trail,  Pierre,"  cried  the  officer ; 
"  surely,  you  can  track  a  human  being  in  the 


44  <3et  on  f)er  Grail,  Pierre."       113 

But  either  the  little  scout  was  unaccountably 
stupid  that  morning,  or  else  the  girl  had  shown 
considerable  skill  in  avoiding  the  wreaths  of 
snow,  for  he  wasted  some  considerable  time  be- 
fore he  picked  up  her  tracks.  Indeed,  it  was 
not  until  after  he  had  a  whispered  colloquy 
with  the  sergeant  that  he  did  so.  No  very 
great  quantity  of  snow  had  indeed  fallen :  it 
was  the  way  it  had  drifted  before  the  wind  that 
had  given  the  impression  of  quantity.  How- 
ever, it  was  not  so  easy  to  follow  up  her  tracks 
as  they  thought  it  would  have  been ;  for  the 
girl,  as  has  been  said,  seemed  to  have  chosen 
the  deepest  and  most  treacherous  drifts  to  walk 
upon,  only  stepping  on  these  long  strips  that 
the  wind  had  laid  bare  on  purpose  to  give  them 
some  difficulty  in  picking  her  tracks  up  again. 
She  had  crossed  and  recrossed  the  rugged  and 
tortuous  creek  in  a  most  exasperating  fashion. 
The  result  was  that  in  places  which  she  had 
passed  over  on  snow-shoes  leaving  but  little 
visible  impression,  their  horses  sank  and  floun- 
dered about  in  a  dangerous  manner.  On  more 
than  one  occasion,  the  officer,  chafing  under  the 
delay,  and  eager  to  show  the  scout  that  he  was 
not  going  fast  enough,  would  put  spurs  to  his 
horse  and  shoot  ahead  for  fifty  yards  or  so. 
Then,  all  at  once,  he  would  disappear  in  a  drift 
or  into  the  concealed  bed  of  the  creek,  where 
nothing  would  be  seen  of  him  save  his  bearskin 
cap,  and  the  fine  snow-dust  flying  into  the  air  as 
his  poor  horse  plunged  and  pawed  helplessly. 
However,  Jamie  could  always  be  heard.  Yuba 
Bill,  or  a  Queensland  bullock  driver  could  'not 
have  expressed  himself  more  forcibly  on  such 
occasions.  The  delay  thus  occasioned  by  ex- 
tricating him  from  such  positions  was  consider- 
able. On  one  occasion  the  scout,  whose  plan  it 
was  to  throw  his  lariat  over  the  officer's  head 
and  shoulders,  and  thus  draw  him  out,  pulled 


ii4  Sinners  Swain. 

"  rather  prematurely,"  as  Dick  Townley  charac- 
terized it,  and  the  rope  tightening  round  Jamie's 
neck  nearly  succeeded  in  strangling  him  before 
they  realized  his  position. 

But  all  this  time  Harry  Yorke  was  sorely  dis- 
turbed in  his  own  mind.  He  knew  that  if  by 
now  the  girl  had  not  met  her  father,  she  must 
be  exhausted,  and  unable  to  proceed  farther. 
If  she  had  met  her  father,  say  three  or  four 
hours  before  that  time,  then,  her  father  and  his 
partner  having  time  enough,  could  either  hurry 
past  them  by  some  other  route  up  the  coullees 
which  they  knew  so  well,  or  else  they  could 
throw  off  the  liquor.  And  if  they  were  taken 
empty  handed,  then  the  police  had  no  hold  up- 
on them.  But  if  she  had  not  met  her  father, 
and  had  sunk  down  exhausted  on  that  shelter- 
less prairie,  might  not  she  have  given  way  to 
that  insidious  death-sleep,  and  be  even  now  be- 
yond the  reach  of  earthly  succor  ?  The  thought 
struck  through  him  like  a  knife.  They  must 
hurry  on  at  any  hazards — it  was  getting  on  for 
mid-day  now.  His  mind  was  made  up,  he 
must  speak  to  the  officer. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  he  said ;  "  how 
would  it  do  to  make  for  that  bend  of  the  creek 
we  see  about  three  miles  off,  and  cut  the  tracks. 
You  see,  she  must  have  followed  down  this 
creek.  It's  little  use  losing  time,  and  playing 
out  our  horses  following  it  round.  Besides,  I 
am  not  quite  sure  if  we  can  do  that  anyhow. 
It's  an  awkward  place — '  Deadman's  Gully,'  we 
call  it,  where  some  Indians  are  buried.  I 
am  sure  it  will  be  all  but  impassable  just  now." 

"  Why  the  dickens  didn't  you  suggest  that 
before?  "  was  the  officer's  somewhat  unreason- 
able reply,  seeing  that  the  proposed  short  cut 
had  only  just  presented  itself.  Then  he  added 
querulously,  "Blow  me,  but  it  seems  I've  got  to 
do  the  thinking  for  the  whole  party.  I  don't 


44  <5et  on  ter  Cratl,  Pierre."       us 

know  what  on  earth  would  become  of  you  fel- 
lows if  you  hadn't  a  man  with  a  head  on  him  to 
do  the  thinking  part  of  the  business  for  you." 

It  was  just  on  the  tip  of  Dick  Townley's 
tongue  to  utter  a  pious  "  Amen  "  in  a  spirit  of 
mild  sarcasm,  but  he  luckily  recollected  himself 
just  in  time,  and  preserved  a  discreet  and 
proper  silence.  As  for  the  sergeant,  he  bore 
the  attempted  snub  as  he  bore  many  others, 
with  a  spirit  of  patient  submission,  albeit  he 
could  safely  have  told  the  officer  that  he — the 
inspector — being  in  charge  of  the  party,  was 
supposed  to  do  the  thinking. 

If  Jamie  and  his  worthy  compeer,  M'Turk 
(the  enlightened  individual  who  said  "  a  horse's 
life  was  of  more  importance  than  a  man's,"  and 
that  "  a  policeman  was  a  machine  and  not  sup- 
posed to  think,")  had  been  a  couple  of  mules 
hitched  up  together  in  a  team,  one  of  them 
would  have  backed  over  a  precipice  for  the 
sheer  satisfaction  of  pulling  the  other  with  it 
and  having  its  own  way. 

It  was  noon  now,  and  they  had  again  cut  the 
tracks  of  the  girl  as  they  approached  the  creek. 
They  were  making  for  a  little  ridge  about  half 
a  mile  ahead  of  them,  which  would  command  a 
comprehensive  view  of  the  prairie  and  the  gate- 
way of  the  Devil's  Playground,  when  the 
scout,  who  had  been  riding  in  advance,  sud- 
denly checked  his  horse,  and  gave  a  low 
whistle.  The  others  "  loped "  up.  In  the 
snow,  and  traveling  from  the  south-east  to 
north-west,  was  a  wagon  track. 

"  Done  !  "  gasped  Jamie,  growing  purple  in 
the  face ;  "  she's  met  them,  and  has  given  us 
the  slip,  and  they've  made  for  Medicine  Hat. 
Oh !  by  the  beard  of  Julius  Caesar,  some  of  you 
fellows'll  languish  in  Joey  Trigot's  hotel  yet 
for  this." 

He  spoke  frantically,  and,  it  must  be  con- 


"6  Sinners  Cwafn. 

fessed,  somewhat  confusedly.  His  remarks 
regarding  the  hotel  had  reference  to  those 
historic  quarters  under  the  tender  charge  of  the 
provost-sergeant,  dignified  by  the  name  of  the 
guard-room,  where  members  of  the  rank  and 
file  too  frequently  enjoyed  terms  of  enforced 
hospitality  for  slight  breaches  of  discipline. 
Honored  rank  and  file  :  Louis  Kiel,  Gaudier, 
Racette,  and  other  murderers  in  these  same 
cells  have  partaken  of  a  like  hospitality,  and 
cheered  you  with  their  playful  remarks  as, 
separated  by  a  half-inch  board,  you  rose  in  the 
morning  to  the  exhilarating  strains  of  reveille. 

The  sergeant,  as  if  he  had  not  heard  the 
officer's  remarks,  spoke. 

"  But  where  is  the  girl  ?  You  see  her  tracks 
go  right  on  to  the  ridge.  She  must  be  some- 
where on  the  prairie,  for  this  wagon  has  crossed 
her  tracks.  She  must  have  gone  on  long 
before  this  wagon  came  up,  and  whoever  was 
in  the  wagon  cannot  have  noticed  her  tracks. 
The  girl  must  perish  if  some  one  does  not  fol- 
low her  up  ! " 

"  Let  her " 

But  he  did  not  finish  his  sentence  ;  the  look 
upon  the  face  of  the  non-commissioned  officer 
terrified  him.  Bully  that  he  was,  he  literally 
quailed  before  the  "  What !  "  that  thundered 
from  the  lips  of  the  sergeant.  But  he  recovered 
himself,  and  cried — 

"  You,  Pierre,  get  on  this  wagon  track  and 
follow  it  up ;  and  you,  Yorke  and  Townley,  go 
with  Pierre.  Look  here,  I  give  you  a  written 
order,"  and,  cold  as  it  was,  he  took  a  note-book 
and  pencil  from  his  buffalo-coat  pocket,  and, 
scrawling  something  on  it,  threw  it  to  the 
sergeant.  "  That'll  protect  you,"  he  said.  "  I 
guess  I'm  running  this  show,  and  not  you. 
I'll  answer  to  Larry." 

This  was  Jamie's  habitual  way  of  talking  of 


"  <3et  on  1>er  Grail,  Pierre."       117 

the  Commissioner,  so  it  was  not  to  be  won- 
dered at  if  there  was  sometimes  considerable 
disregard  paid  to  relative  rank  amongst  a  cer- 
tain class  in  the  North- West  Mounted  Police 
Force. 

"  Then,  sir,  will  you  see  after  the  girl  ? " 
asked  the  sergeant,  respectfully.  "  You  see, 
if  she  perishes,  there  will  be  an  inquiry,  and,  of 
course — I  mean  no  disrespect — the  circum- 
stances of  the  case  will  all  come  out." 

"  Go  on,  oh,  go  on  ! "  roared  Jamie.  "  None 
of  your  cockneyfied  insolence  !  I'll  stop  here 
in  the  meantime — that's  more  than  enough  for 
you.  You'd  better  get  a  rustle  on,  and  catch 
up  with  old  St.  Denis,  for  it's  him,  beyond 
doubt." 

Jamie  chuckled  to  himself  as  he  watched  the 
party  out  of  sight.  Then  he  drew  a  pipe  from 
his  pocket,  already  charged,  and  began  to 
smoke.  Soon  he  got  off  his  horse  and  sat  on 
the  snow.  But  before  long  the  intense  frost 
froze  up  his  pipe,  and  he  had  to  stop  smoking, 
How  long  he  would  have  sat  in  that  enviable, 
trance-like  state  peculiar  to  him  it  is  needless 
to  speculate  upon,  but  the  coldness  of  his  seat 
forced  itself  upon  him  in  a  rather  disagreeable 
manner.  He  then  led  his  horse  by  the  bridle 
rein  and  endeavored  to  follow  Marie  St.  Denis' 
tracks,  but  he  got  into  a  drift  and  floundered 
about  helplessly.  (The  irreverent  private  had 
said  that  Jamie  in  a  snowdrift  resembled  a 
porpoise  in  a  barrel  of  sawdust.)  On  the  still 
air  of  that  prairie  there  arose  a  choice  flow  of 
language  that  had  even  the  badgers  happened 
to  be  out  and  overheard  would  have  shocked 
their  notions  of  propriety.  At  last  he  got  clear 
of  the  drift. 

"  No  use,"  he  said  to  himself.  "  Can't  follow 
the  wench  up,  though  I  would  have  liked  to. 
Strikes  me  the  best  thing  I  can  do  is  to  follow 


n8  Sinners  {Twain. 

Yprke,  and  capture  the  wagon.  Guess  there 
will  be  lots  of  good  stuff  on  board,  and  a  nip 
wouldn't  go  bad  this  morning." 

And  no  sooner  had  he  come  to  this  conclu- 
sion than  he  jumped  on  his  horse,  and,  putting 
spurs  to  it,  loped  after  the  wagon,  which  had 
evidently  been  driven  by  one  who  had  a 
thorough  knowledge  of  the  snow-clad  prairie, 
for  the  tracks  meandered  along  the  clear,  wind- 
swept ridges,  where  traveling  was  compara- 
tively easy ;  and,  while  pursuing  a  certain 
course,  always  avoided  snowdrifts  and  treacher- 
ous spots  on  either  side. 


CHAPTER  XII. 
A  PURSUIT,  A   CAPTURE,  AND  A  SURPRISE. 

IT  was  now  well  on  in  the  afternoon,  and  the 
sun  shone  clearly  out,  as  he  always  does  in  the 
North- West  no  matter  how  low  the  thermom- 
eter is.  Though  there  was  no  warmth  in  his 
rays,  still  they  gave  a  feeling  of  life  even  to  that 
ghastly,  featureless  landscape.  The  snow 
glowed  and  shimmered  like  burnished  silver; 
millions  of  diamond-like  crystals  scintillated 
and  sparkled  in  a  dazzling  fashion  on  its  sur- 
face. It  is  this  painful  glittering  of  the  sun's 
rays  upon  the  snow  that  causes  snow-blindness, 
which  many  dwellers  in  these  regions  know  to 
their  cost. 

For  some  hours  the  police  party  had  been 
following  up  the  tracks  of  the  wagon,  but  as 
yet  had  been  unable  to  overtake  it. 

"  Mon  Dteu  ! "  exclaimed  the  little  scout  at 
length,  "  how  they  must  have  traveled  !  But 
overtake  them  we  shall  yet !  For  the  Medicine 
Hat  Ranche  they  will  make,  and,  surely,  their 
horses  cannot  travel  farther — ours  won't,  any- 
how. But  here  comes  Monsieur  the  Inspector." 

The  sergeant  stopped  fearfully  and  looked 
round.  It  was  as  the  scout  had  said,  it  was 
his  superior  officer — and  alone.  Harry  Yorke 
experienced  a  strange  sinking  at  his  heart — 
where  was  the  girl  ?  And  there  rose  up  before 
him  a  vision  of  Marie  St.  Denis  upon  some 
ridge  of  that  lonely  prairie,  looking  around 
wistfully  for  the  succor  that  came  not,  and 
striving  bravely  but  vainly  to  resist  the  spells 
of  the  king  of  dreams  whose  realms  border  on 


120  Sinner0  Gwatn. 

that  land  from  which  no  wanderer  may  retrace 
his  steps. 

"  Did  you  not  find  her,  sir  ?  "  the  sergeant 
asked  the  inspector  with  a  tremor  in  his  voice 
that  struck  the  officer  as  not  a  little  ominous. 

"  No ;  I  tried  to  follow  up  the  tracks,  but  the 
snow  got  so  confoundedly  deep  that  I  couldn't. 
How  is  it  you  have  not  overhauled  the  wagon 
by  this  time  ?  " 

Harry  Yorke  regarded  his  superior  almost 
stupidly  for  a  few  seconds.  The  gravity  of  the 
situation  and  the  sense  of  his  own  helplessness 
crushed  down  upon  him  with  a  sickening  force. 
Then  a  fit  of  anger  and  rebellion  at  his  supe- 
rior's palpable  inhumanity  seized  him.  In  an- 
other moment  he  would  certainly  have  forgotten 
himself — have  said  or  done  something  that 
would  have  given  his  superior  officer  his  much 
desired  hold  upon  him,  had  not  the  private 
pressed  quietly  towards  him,  and,  with  a  look  of 
deep  concern  on  his  face,  whispered  something 
to  him. 

"  Let's  hope  that  it  may  be  as  you  say,  Dick," 
he  said  in  answer,  "  and  there's  just  a  chance 
that  it  may  be  so.  As  you  say,  she  is  a  strong 
girl  and  a  sensible  one,  and  would  not  be  likely 
to  risk  walking  farther  south  than  she  could 
walk  back  again  by  daylight.  But  I  know  what 
walking  in  this  rare  atmosphere  means;  one 
keeps  on  walking  till  one  discovers  all  at  once 
that  the  limbs  are  played  out  and  it  is  impossi- 
ble to  go  a  foot  farther. 

"  Look  here,  Harry,"  said  his  friend, "  we 
cannot  be  very  far  behind  this  wagon  now. 
Let  us  hurry  up  and  overtake  it — we  may  learn 
something.  I've  a  presentiment  that  every- 
thing is  all  right.  If  not,  we  can  go  back  and 
find  out  where  the  girl  is,  let  Jamie  call  it  what 
he  likes,  rank  insubordination  or  desertion,  I'll 
go  with  you.  We  cannot  be  more  than  a  few 
miles  from  the  ranche  now  at  the  outside." 


B  pursuit,  a  Capture,  a  Surprise.    121 

The  private's  advice,  under  the  circumstances, 
was  the  most  sensible  course  to  take  just  then  ; 
the  party  pushed  on  again  over  wind-swept 
ridges  and  frozen  sloughs.  The  traveling  was 
comparatively  easy,  for  the  person  who  had 
driven  the  wagon  must  have  had  a  thorough 
knowledge  of  the  prairie  to  have  chosen  a  route 
that  was  so  free  from  any  obstructions. 

To  be  upon  the  unbroken,  treeless  prairie  in 
winter-time  is  for  all  the  world  like  being  at 
sea  with  the  sun  shining  on  the  water.  There 
is  the  blurred  and  seemingly  boundless  horizon, 
and  there  are  the  wave-like  heights  and  hollows 
in  the  nearer  foreground,  the  former  foam- 
crested  and  wonderfully  natural.  It  is  as  real- 
istic as  any  wintry  northern  sea  on  which  the 
sun  has  deigned  to  smile  for  a  brief  space. 

Now  they  loped  along  a  frozen  and  tufted 
rib  of  land,  and  then  they  ploughed  their  way 
through  a  slough  where  the  long  grass  had 
caught  and  held  the  drifting  snow.  It  was  a 
clear,  cold  day.  At  one  time  in  the  heavens 
they  saw  that  remarkable  phenomenon  which 
is  said  to  herald  a  spell  of  unusually  hard 
weather,  the  mock  sun  with  a  number  of  rings 
of  light  intersecting  one  another,  large  and 
brilliant,  and  multiplied  with  kaleidoscopic  ef- 
fect. 

And  now  the  country  became  more  broken ; 
they  were  descending  the  side  of  a  coullee, 
when  the  little  scout  cried  out  and  pointed  to  a 
dark  speck,  which,  on  closer  observation,  turned 
out  to  be  a  wagon  far  out  on  the  plain. 

"  That's  it !  that's  it !  "  cried  Jamie,  excitedly. 
"  We've  got  him  now !  I  hope  it's  decent 
whiskey,  for  I  can  do  a  drop,  I  can  tell  you." 

"  What  on  earth  are  you  doing  ?  "  cried  the 
sergeant,  aghast ;  for  the  officer  had  made  the 
private  hand  over  his  carbine  to  him,  had  dis- 
mounted, and  was  fixing  the  sight. 


122  Sinners  Gwafn. 

"  Why,  going  to  stop  that  there  wagon  to  be 
sure,"  answered  Jamie. 

Before  the  sergeant  could  stop  him,  he  had 
knelt  down  on  the  snow  and  taken  aim— ping, 
there  was  a  roar  that  grew  and  died  away  again 
in  that  unfettered  expanse.  Suddenly  a  beauti- 
ful conical  jet  of  snow  spurted  into  the  air  be- 
tween them  and  the  wagon.  It  was  like  a 
whale  spouting  at  sea,  or  a  cannon-ball  strik- 
the  water  and  just  skimming  the  surface. 

The  sergeant  heaved  a  sigh  of  relief. 

"  I  would  not  fire  again  if  I  were  you,  sir," 
said  the  latter,  in  vain  trying  to  conceal  his  in- 
dignation at  the  summary  and  incriminating 
measures  which  his  superior  officer  was  adopt- 
ing. "  That  sort  of  thing  might  have  been  legal 
enough  a  few  years  ago,  but  the  country  has 
decreed  that  a  Mounted  Policeman  has  no  more 
right  to  murder  a  man  in  cold  blood  than  any 
other  body.  What  if  you  had  killed  the  man  in 
the  wagon  ?  " 

Jamie,  who  had  just  been  going  to  dilate 
upon  the  splendid  direction  of  the  shot  he  had 
just  fired,  tried  to  pass  the  matter  off  with  a 
miserable  and  uneasy  laugh.  To  tell  the  truth, 
the  shot  surprised  no  one  so  much  as  Jamie 
himself ;  for  it  happened  to  be  a  standing  joke 
with  the  men  that  Jamie  could  not  hit  a  hay- 
stack at  twenty  yards. 

But  the  wagon  did  not  stop,  it  only  quickened 
its  pace,  and  the  horses  were  seen  to  be 
stretching  out  over  the  level  prairie.  In  another 
mile  or  so  the  ranche  would  be  reached  ;  there 
it  would  be  easy  to  throw  off  a  number  of  small 
kegs  of  liquor  where  the  police  could  not  find 
them.  The  sergeant  pressed  his  heels  into 
his  horse's  sides  and  started  off  at  a  canter. 
Just  then  the  officer's  horse  stumbled  into  a 
badger-hole  ;  in  another  second  Jamie  had  dis- 
mounted abruptly  and  in  an  unregimental 


H  pursuit,  a  Capture,  a  Surprise.   123 

fashion.  The  private  and  the  scout  pulled  up  to 
assist  him. 

The  sergeant  was  close  upon  the  wagon. 
He  could  see  some  one  in  it  reclining  on  what 
seemed  to  be  a  bale  of  robes,  but  which  he 
reckoned  were  kegs  of  whiskey.  The  person, 
whoever  it  was,  did  not  once  turn  round  to  look 
at  him.  Another  hundred  yards  and  the  ranche 
would  be  reached.  It  was  hardly  worth  while 
calling  out  to  the  party  in  the  wagon  to  stop, 
for  it  was  already  slowing.  In  another  minute 
it  had  turned  the  corner  of  a  long  straw-shed 
and  pulled  up.  And  now  the  sergeant,  tired, 
and  not  a  little  annoyed,  jumped  off  his  horse 
and  went  forward  to  the  wagon-box.  Was  it 
Gabriel,  or  Francois,  the  former's  partner? 
The  figure,  like  all  figures  in  the  North- West  in 
winter  time  when  traveling  on  the  prairie,  was 
heavily  muffled  up. 

"Now,  then,"  cried  the  sergeant,  (testily, 
"  you  have  given  us  a  nice  chase,  haven't  you  ? 
Don't  you  think  it  would  have  been  just  as  well 
for  you  if  you  had  stopped  when  you  saw  we 
must  inevitably  overtake  you  ?  " 

The  figure  turned  round  and  looked  full  upon 
him,  and  there  was  something  that  was  almost 
conscience-stricken  in  that  look. 

Harry  Yorke  started  back  as  if  he  had  been 
confronted  with  a  ghost.  It  was  neither  Ga- 
briel nor  Francois  his  partner.  It  was  Marie 
St.  Denis  herself ! 

The  sergeant  stared  for  a  minute  in  speech- 
less astonishment  upon  her,  for  he  could  not 
understand  how  it  was  she  came  to  be  there. 
Besides,  where  did  she  get  the  wagon  ?  and 
where  was  her  father  ?  Upon  the  fair  face  of 
the  girl,  the  color  of  which  was  somewhat 
heightened,  there  was  neither  that  irritating  look 
of  satisfaction  which  comes  from  the  knowledge 
of  having  outwitted  some  one,  nor  yet  was 


i24  Sinners 

there  any  apprehension.  She  looked  for  a  mo- 
ment into  his  face,  then  dropped  her  eyes  again, 
and  said — 

"  I  am  afraid  you  must  think  very  badly  of 
me.  It  would  be  untrue  if  I  confessed  myself 
sorry  for  what  I  have  done,  for  I  am  not,  al- 
though I  regret  the  necessity  that  forced  me  to 
it.  But  I  feel  that  I  have  treated  you  very 
badly,  and  made  you  a  very  poor  return  for 
your  goodness.  I  did  not  mean  to  deceive  you 
— personally." 

"  Don't  look  at  it  in  that  light,"  he  said,  sim- 
ply. "  But  where  is  your  father  ?  "  It  was  his 
curiosity,  and  not  his  professional  zeal  that 
spoke  now. 

"  Safe,"  she  cried,  as  a  glad  light  sprang  into 
her  eyes,  "  and  done  with  the  cursed  trade  for 
ever.  I  shall  tell  you  all  about  it  another  time. 
But,  oh  !  I  am  so  cold  and  stiff." 

She  tried  to  rise  to  her  feet,  but  her  cramped 
limbs  refused  to  act,  and  she  sank  down  again 
helplessly. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  am  somewhat  in  the  same 
condition  as  the  poor  horses,"  she  said,  with 
rather  a  pitiable  smile  ;  "  what  you  might  call 
'  played  out.'  Will  you  relent  so  far  as  to  help 
me  down  ?  "  and  her  face  grew  rather  white 
and  weary  looking,  though  she  tried  to  appear 
as  if  tired  Nature  were  not  pressing  her  hard 
just  then. 

To  spring  up  into  the  wagon  and  gently 
catch  hold  of  her  was  the  work  of  a  minute. 
"  Stop  that  cruel  talk  about  relenting,"  he  said, 
"you  have  overtasked  your  strength  and  are 
numbed  with  the  long  drive.  But,  thank  good- 
ness, you  are  safe ;  I  thought  you  had  been  left 
behind  upon  the  prairie ;  even  now  I  can  hardly 
make  out.how  you  come  to  be  here.  It  is  a  very 
mysterious  business,  indeed.  But,  anyhow, 
you  are  more  or  less  a  mystery  to  me.  I  wish 
you  were  not." 


B  pursuit,  a  Capture,  a  Surprise.  125 

If  he  had  happened  to  watch  her  face  closely 
just  then  he  would  have  seen  that  a  startled, 
conscious  expression  came  into  it  for  a  mo- 
ment, and  that  she  looked  quickly  away  as  if 
she  were  fearful  of  him  seeing  it. 

He  placed  her  in  a  leaning  position  against 
the  side  of  the  wagon,  and  jumped  to  the 
ground  again.  Then  he  reached  over  and 
placed  his  arms  round  her.  She  lay  in  them  as 
passively  as  a  child  might  have  done  as  he 
lifted  her  out  and  carried  her  towards  what 
was  evidently  the  dwelling  house ;  but  before 
they  reached  it  the  door  opened  and  a  man  and 
a  woman  came  out.  They  looked  for  a  mo- 
ment upon  Harry  Yorke  carrying  his  precious 
burden  with  not  a  little  amazement ;  then  the 
sergeant  spoke. 

"  I  have  brought  you  a  visitor,  Mrs.  Petersen, 
but  I  am  afraid  she  is  rather  fatigued.  She  is 
my  prisoner,  and  you  must  see  that  she  does 
not  escape." 

Looking  at  her  face  just  then  one  would 
have  thought  that  she  took  her  position  as  a 
captive  very  easily  indeed,  and  that  she  seemed 
quite  satisfied  to  remain  his  prisoner. 

"  Marie  St.  Denis,  by  all  that's  wonderful ! " 
cried  the  stout,  good-natured  looking  woman. 
"  Well,  well,  now ;  and  just  to  think  of  the 
number  of  times  I  have  told  your  father  to 
fetch  you  along  with  him  when  he  came ;  and 
to  think  that  when  you  did  come  it  should  be 
in  charge  of  a  Mounted  Policeman !  But  I 
reckon,  now  that  we've  got  you,  we'll  keep  you 
for  some  time.  And  you,  Mr.  Yorke  !  Well, 
come  right  in,  and  you  can  tell  us  all  about  it 
again.  Bless  my  soul,  this  is  a  surprise  ! " 

The  sergeant  followed  the  good  lady,  who 
talked  all  the  way,  into  the  large  and  comfort- 
able  sitting-room,  put  Marie  St.  Denis  on  a 
large  couch  that  was  wheeled  up  some  little 


126  Sinners  Gwafn. 

distance  from  the  stove,  and  went  out  again  to 
see  after  the  horses.  Just  then  the  officer, 
leading  his  lame  horse,  the  private  and  the 
scout  came  up.  The  inspector,  in  spite  of  his 
recent  accident,  seemed  elated  at  having  cap- 
tured the  team. 

"  Well,  who  is  it  ?  "  he  asked.  "  St.  Denis, 
or  Frangois,  or  both  ?  " 

"  Neither,"  answered  the  sergeant,  grimly, 
and  with  not  a  little  secret  pleasure;  "only 
Mademoiselle  St.  Denis."  And  he  watched 
the  effect  of  the  shot. 

"  Eh  ?  what — what's  that  you're  saying  ?  " 
cried  Jamie,  staring  at  him  with  wide-open  eyes 
and  as  if  he  had  not  heard  aright. 

"  Well,  go  in  and  look  for  yourself,"  an- 
swered the  sergeant,  forgetting  himself,  and 
remembering  how  the  girl  might  have  perished 
only  some  few  hours  before  through  the  offi- 
cer's inhumanity.  "  If  you  had  followed  up 
her  tracks,"  he  continued,  "we  might  have 
been  saved  this  wild-goose  chase." 

He  did  not  say  how  glad  he  was  that  they 
did  not  follow  up  her  tracks. 

"  But  surely,"  cried  Jamie,  with  a  look  of 
ludicrous  fear  and  incredulity  on  his  face  as  he 
rushed  to  the  wagon  and  clambered  into  it, 
"  surely,  they  haven't  sold  us  ?  Where  is  the 
whiskey?  Why,  the  wagon's  empty!  Sold, 
by ! " 

"  That's  so,"  interrupted  the  sergeant,  coolly, 
watching  the  officer  as  he  turned  over  the  buf- 
falo robes  and  searched  amongst  the  loose  hay 
at  the  bottom  of  the  wagon.  "  You  see,  it's 
this  way :  there  must  have  been  two  wagons. 
The  girl  met  them  early  this  morning  and  told 
them  about  us.  They  loaded  all  the  stuff  upon 
one  wagon  and  sent  it  on  in  another  direction, 
then  she  must  have  got  into  the  empty  one  and, 
making  a  circle,  cut  her  old  tracks,  knowing 


21  pursuit,  a  Capture,  a  Surprise.  127 

that  we  should  follow  up  the  first  track  we 
came  to,  like  the  geese  we  were.  She  judged 
rightly.  The  other  wagon  may  be  at  Maple 
Creek  or  Walsh  by  this  time  and  have  unloaded. 
It  is  getting  dark  now  and,  anyhow,  they're 
safe  enough.  I  am  afraid,  sir,  this  day's  work 
will  make  a  very  unsatisfactory  report — '  cap- 
tured one  girl  and  an  empty  wagon.'  " 

The  sergeant  seemed  to  take  a  malicious 
pleasure  in  laying  the  facts  of  the  case  ruth- 
lessly before  his  superior  officer. 

"  Hold  your  tongue  !  Oh,  hold  your  blanked 
English  tongue ! "  cried  Jamie,  frantically,  and 
somewhat  inconsistently.  Then  for  a  few  min- 
utes he  plunged  around  aimlessly,  beside  him- 
self with  rage. 

As  for  Dick  Townley  and  the  little  scout, 
they  were  evidently  in  no  way  dissatisfied  with 
the  turn  things  had  taken.  Even  the  sorry 
state  of  mind  their  superior  officer  was  in 
seemed  in  no  way  to  damp  their  spirits. 
Indeed,  quite  the  reverse. 

"  Let  me  see  that  wench,"  cried  Jamie, 
angrily,  as  if  seized  with  a  sudden  thought. 
"  I'll  teach  her  to  fool  the  police  this  way." 

He  strode  towards  the  house.  But  the 
rancher  stood  between  him  and  it. 

"  Mr.  Inspector,"  he  said,  quietly  and  delib- 
erately, "  you  don't  enter  my  house :  these 
three  gentlemen  are  welcome  to  ;  I  only  allow 
gentlemen  into  it.  I  am,  and  have  always  been, 
friendly  towards  the  police,  and  regret  this  little 
affair,  because  I  have  been  on  terms  of  inti- 
macy with  many  of  your  brother  officers  who 
are  gentlemen.  But  I  know  you ;  the  force 
knows  you  to  its  cost  and  disgrace ;  moreover, 
the  inhabitants  and  tax-payers  of  Canada  are 
getting  tired  of  supporting  such  bungling  good- 
for-nothings  as  you,  who  are  neither  for  use  or 
ornament,  and  who  at  the  most  only  represent 


128  Sinners  Gwain. 

a  few  votes  down  east.  Recollect,  you  wear 
the  Queen's  uniform  ;  as  a  loyal  subject  I  ought 
not  to  lay  a  finger  on  you  ;  but  try  and  make 
your  way  into  this  house  and  I'll  kick  you  out. 

I  will — so  help  me There  is  the  men's 

shack  over  there  ;  you  can  go  into  it — it  is  any 
amount  good  enough  for  you." 

As  for  the  representatives  of  the  rank  and 
file  present,  it  is  quite  possible  that  they  felt  the 
painful  nature  of  this  speech  much  more  keenly 
than  the  officer  did.  But  this  is  only  what 
might  have  been  expected. 

As  for  the  little  scout,  he  hummed  audibly  to 
himself,  "  Victoria,  Victoria,  witty  witty  wit 
pom,  pom,"  and  felt  as  if  he  stood  at  least  six 
inches  taller  in  his  mocassins. 

But  here  it  is  necessary  to  explain  more  fully 
how  Marie  St.  Denis  came  to  be  driving  the 
empty  wagon ;  and  how  she  assisted  her 
father  and  his  partner  to  evade  the  police. 

On  that  same  morning,  when  she  had  strug- 
gled to  the  wind-swept  ridge,  gazed  apprehen- 
sively around,  and  could  see  no  signs  of  her 
father  coming :  when  her  overtaxed  energies 
gave  way,  and  the  overpowering  desire  to  sleep 
overcame  her,  it  was  perilously  near  being  her 
last  hour  on  earth.  Indeed,  the  attendant 
signs  and  tokens  that  are  vouchsafed  by  the 
King  of  Terrors  to  his  victims,  were  fast  being 
made  manifest  to  her.  "  As  we  live,  we  die," 
is  a  saying  as  old  as  the  hills,  and  as  true  as  the 
development  of  all  things  from  primary  ele- 
ments :  willed  and  inaugurated  by  that  Omnis- 
cient and  Divine  Being  who  has  given  man 
dominion  over  the  earth,  and  made  him  a  respon- 
sible servant  under  Him— a  servant,  but  a  lord 
of  Creation  in  his  own  right.  It  has  been  shown 
how  the  girl  looked  towards  the  portals  of  that 
mysterious  valley,  the  Devil's  Playground,  and 
how  she  could  see  no  signs  of  help  coming  from 


B  pursuit,  a  Capture,  a  Surprise.    129 

them.  But  there  was  help  there  if  she  only 
could  have  known  of  it.  In  the  lee  of  a  semi- 
circular wall  of  fantastically  colored  clay,  sur- 
rounded by  a  scraggy  growth  of  willows,  and 
within  fifty  yards  of  the  entrance,  a  couple  of 
teams  were  camped.  Grouped  together  in  an- 
other sheltered  spot  a  little  farther  up  eight  or 
nine  horses  were  standing  round  the  last  of 
some  baled  hay,  and  seemed  in  no  way  incon- 
venienced by  the  coldness  of  the  weather ;  the 
broncho-bred  equine  of  the  North- West,  with 
his  shaggy  coat  and  sturdy  constitution,  will 
"  rustle  "  for  himself  and  grow  fat  in  the  winter- 
time when  eastern-bred  horses  will  perish. 
There  was  a  tent  close  to  one  of  the  wagons, 
and  two  men  in  it  had  just  finished  breakfast. 
There  was  a  tiny  portable  stove  in  the  tent,  and 
a  small  pile  of  wood  handy. 

"  Well,  Francois,"  said  one  who  was  no 
other  than  Gabriel  St.  Denis,  "  it's  as  well  we 
made  this  place  before  the  blizzard  kem  up ; 
but  as  it  is,  no  perticlar  depth  of  snow  has 
fallen.  I  guess  I'll  just  go  out  and  tek  a  leetle 
look  round.  Then  we  kin  hitch  up  and  travel 
up  Wild  Horse  coullee — I  could  find  my  way 
blindfolded  thar." 

"  Trh  bien"  said  Frangois.  "  Put  the  sad- 
dle on  Jacques  then,  and  choose  a  road  out  of 
these  mauvaises  terres pour  iraverser.  In  the 
meantime  I  will  the  decks  clear,  and  the  horses 
hitch  up  until  you  come.  I  will  leave  the  tent 
till  last  thing." 

In  a  few  minutes  more  Gabriel  was  on  the 
back  of  Jacques  and  was  standing  on  the  ele- 
vated ground,  just  outside  the  portals  of  the 
mysterious  valley.  The  latter,  indeed,  was  a 
good  place  to  have  taken  shelter  in :  a  regiment 
of  soldiers  might  have  passed  within  a  stone's 
throw  of  them  and  missed  them.  Keenly  Ga- 
briel scanned  the  ghastly  stretch  of  snow-clad 


i3°  Sinners  {Twain 

prairie.  Suddenly  he  started.  What  was  that 
black  object  on  the  crest  of  that  lonely  ridge  ? 
What  was  the  meaning  of  that  dark  speck  hov- 
ering in  mid-air  on  balanced  pinion  just  above 
it  ?  And  what  was  the  meaning  of  that  slink- 
ing, furtive,  feline-like  brute  that  approached 
the  thing  on  the  ground  with  malignant  tread, 
and  by  an  ever  narrowing  circuitous  route : 
every  now  and  again  stopping  to  raise  its  fanged 
and  wicked-looking  snout,  to  prick  its  wolf's 
ears  as  it  looked  around,  to  sniff  the  air,  and 
see  that  the  coast  was  clear  ? 

"  For  where  the  carcase  is "  said  Gabriel 

to  himself. 

It  was  a  remarkable  presentiment  that  took 
possession  of  him  just  then.  But,  whichever 
way  it  was,  the  terrible  thought  no  sooner 
flashed  upon  him  than  he  dug  his  heels  into  his 
horse's  ribs  and  darted  towards  that  dark 
object. 

"  God  help  me  if  it  is  so  ! "  he  cried  aloud. 

And  perhaps  it  was  the  few  minutes  of  ap- 
prehensive agony  which  followed,  that  made 
him  so  amenable  to  the  dictates  of  conscience 
and  the  voice  of  his  daughter  afterwards. 

It  was  indeed  Marie  who  had  sunk  into  that 
slumber  from  which  she  might  never  have 
awakened.  He  was  just  in  time,  and,  flinging 
himself  from  his  horse,  he  pulled  off  her  mitts  ; 
but  her  hands  had  not  been  frozen,  so  he  chafed 
them  between  his  own.  It  seemed  almost  a 
pity  to  awaken  the  girl  ;  there  was  such  a  look 
of  contentment  on  her  face.  Then  he  called  on 
her  by  name,  and  she  opened  her  eyes.  It  was 
a  strange  thing  that  she  seemed  in  no  way  sur- 
prised to  see  him  there  ;  she  merely  said, 
"  Then  I  did  not  dream  I  saw  you  coming  from 
the  Devil's  Playground,  father ;  I  have  heard 
and  seen  such  strange  things." 

"Thank     God!"  said    Gabriel    to    himself 


B  pursuit,  a  Capture,  a  Surprise,   131 

piously — smuggler  and  all  that  he  was.  He 
had  a  shrewd,  uncomfortable  guess  what 
brought  her  there. 

"  But  you  must  not  lie  here,  Marie.  You 
must  come  over  to  the  tent  and  have  some  hot 
tea.  Can  you  stand  ?" 

He  raised  her  to  her  feet ;  but  she  would 
have  fallen  had  he  not  placed  his  arm  round 
her.  He  caught  her  up,  and  placing  her  upon 
the  back  of  his  horse,  took  her  as  quickly  as  he 
could  over  to  the  camp. 

The  bird  of  prey,  that  had  been  wheeling 
round  her  head  in  ever  narrowing  circles, 
hovered  undecidedly  around  for  a  minute  or  two, 
then  shot  off  in  disgust  to  look  somewhere  else 
for  his  breakfast.  The  wolf  ascended  the  little 
ridge  and  sniffed  around  the  spot  where  the 
girl  had  lain,  then,  partly  raising  his  head,  gazed 
after  them  with  relaxed,  drooping  jaws  and 
sullen,  wondering  eyes.  Then  he  raised  his 
head  still  higher  and  yawned  horribly,  till  one 
could  have  seen  the  bluish  ribbed  roof  of  his 
mouth,  and  counted  every  gleaming  yellow 
tooth  in  his  head.  One  would  have  shuddered 
to  see  the  almost  human  expression  of  baffled 
cunning  and  design  that  the  face  of  the  brute 
suggested.  He,  also,  would  have  to  look  some- 
where else  for  his  breakfast. 

Once  in  the  warm  tent  and  refreshed  by 
some  hot  tea  (there  is  no  stimulant  so  safe  and 
lasting  in  its  effects  after  exposure  as  tea)  and 
something  to  eat,  Marie  felt  little  the  worse  of 
her  journey.  But  before  she  had  taken  any- 
thing she  had  set  their  line  of  action  before 
them.  She  had  told  them,  as  they  had  guessed, 
what  brought  her  there. 

"You  must  either  go  back  to  the  States, 
father,  with  the  cargo,  or  else  go  on  to  the  ranche, 
alone  and  empty-handed.  But  whatever  you 
do,  this  business  must  cease  here,  now  and  for 
ever,"  she  said,  determinedly. 


132  Sinners  {Twain. 

"  You're  talking  nonsense,  child,"  said  Ga- 
briel. "  We  kennot  recross  the  Milk  River 
Ridge  now.  Besides,  the  cargo's  worth  over 
two  thousand  dollars,  and  we  ken't  afford  to 
throw  it  away.  We  must  scheme  so's  to  pass 
through  somehow." 

"  Do  you  think,  father,"  said  the  girl,  indig- 
nantly, and  showing,  as  honest  Frangois,  Ga- 
briel's partner,  noted,  that  there  was  a  strong 
suggestion  of  a  chip  of  the  old  block  in  her, 
"  do  you  think  for  a  moment  that  I  begged  the 
help  of  one,  before  whom  I  had  to  sacrifice  my 
pride,  for  the  sake  of  enabling  you  to  still 
further  carry  out  your  schemes?  No!  ten 
thousand  times  No  !  " — she  stamped  her  foot  as 
if  she  were  commanding  a  subject,  and  looked 
her  father  steadily  in  the  eyes — "  I  came  to 
save  you  from  yourself,  father.  I  did  not  come 
to  help  you  to  cheat  the  police.  You  must  do 
as  I  bid  you,  and  quit  this  place  for  good.  You 
may  excuse  yourself  as  you  may,  but  you  are 
committing  an  injustice  on  me.  Would  you 
have  done  this  had  my  mother  been  alive  ?  " 

She  had  never  spoken  like  this  in  her  life  before 
to  her  father,  and  he  stared  at  her  wonderingly. 
There  was  one  who  had  died  when  Marie  was 
a  mere  child — whom  he  had  often  seen  live 
again  in  the  girl's  eyes,  and  now  he  saw  the 
mother  live  and  speak  in  the  person  of  the 
woman  ;  trembling,  he  passed  one  hand  before 
his  eyes  so  that  he  might  shut  out  the  sight. 
But  her  voice  still  rang  in  his  ears,  and  he  felt 
like  one  who  is  detected  in  a  crime.  Perhaps 
Gabriel  had  never  realized  the  error  of  his  ways 
as  he  did  then.  As  for  Frangois,  who  was  a 
bachelor  and  a  good-hearted  man,  though  he 
secretly  admired  her  spirit  he  could  not  com- 
prehend her  scruples.  But  women  to  Francois 
were  mysterious  and  inexplicable  creatures  at 
the  best,  and  he  had  long  since  given  up  trying 


a  pursuit,  a  Capture,  a  Surprise.    133 

to  understand  them.  Though  he  thought,  in 
his  simple,  honest  way,  that  there  was  nothing  so 
particularly  dreadful  in  being  tyrannized  over 
by  such  a  girl  as  this  particular  one  before  him, 
still  he  felt  thankful  to  Providence  that  he  was 
yet  a  bachelor,  and  free  from  the  annoyances  of 
petticoat  government. 

"But,"  argued  Gabriel,  weakly  and  irrele- 
vantly, "  it  won't  do  to  leave  the  whiskey  here. 
S'posin'  the  pleece  git  it,  we're  goners  both. 
We  ken't  cache  it ;  fur  in  this  snow  they'd 
spot  it  only  too  quick.  We  must  git  a  rustle 
on,  an'  git  through  with  it.  Frangois  ken't  go 
on  hisself " 

"  Tenez-vous  la  !  "  interrupted  Frangois,  "  I 
kin." 

"  Now,  listen,"  said  Marie,  "  there  is  only  one 
thing  you  can  do.  Put  all  the  wretched  stuff 
on  one  wagon — if  half  of  it  did  not  belong  to 
you,  Frangois,  I'd  make  father  spill  it — and  you, 
Frangois,  take  it  anywhere  out  of  the  way. 
You,  father,  had  better  go  back,  and  on  foot,  to 
the  ranche  ;  for  to-morrow  the  police  will  make 
back  and  find  you  there.  If  you  are  found 
without  contraband  goods  they  cannot  inter- 
fere with  you.  I  shall  take  the  empty  wagon  in 
two  hours'  time  from  now,  and  going  back  cut 
my  own  tracks.  The  police  will  at  once  follow 
up  the  wagon  tracks,  and  I  will  make  straight 
for  the  Medicine  Hat  Ranche ;  knowing  every 
foot  of  the  way  it  need  not  take  long ;  but  it 
will  take  so  long  that  they  will  not  be  able  to  go 
farther  to-day.  By  to-morrow  you  ought  not 
to  care  who  finds  you." 

"  Good  girl,"  said  Frangois,  in  admiration. 
"  Mon  Dieu,  what  a  smuggler  you  would  have 
made !  " 

Poor  Frangois,  it  was  the  only  compliment 
he  could  think  of  just  then  ;  men  are  such 
stupid  creatures  sometimes.  However,  this 


134  Sinners  Hwain. 

proposition  just  suited  him  ;  he  could  push  on 
up  Willow  Creek,  and  round  by  the  head  of  the 
mountain,  now  that  he  knew  where  the  police 
were,  without  any  fear  of  interruption,  and  with 
four  good  horses  he  could  make  Walsh  some- 
time that  night.  He  knew  every  foot  of  the 
ground.  As  for  Gabriel,  he  could  do  without 
him  ;  it  were  better  that  he  should  go  home, 
and  when  the  police  found  him  there  it  would 
be  better  for  both  of  them.  They  would  not 
know  what  to  make  of  the  affair.  The  girl  was 
a  good,  brave  girl,  and  what  she  had  done,  and 
what  she  offered  to  do,  was  what  ninety-nine 
girls  out  of  a  hundred  would  neither  have 
thought  of,  nor  yet  attempted.  Frangois 
loyally  seconded  her  proposition. 

"  But,  Marie,  you  ken't  go  alone :  you  must 
let  me  go  with  you,"  said  Gabriel. 

"  There  is  no  danger,"  said  the  girl.  "The 
police  will  not  be  at  any  time  so  very  far  be- 
hind me  should  anything  go  wrong.  Now,  go 
and  do  as  I  have  told  you ;  let  me  sleep  for  an 
hour  or  so  and  I  shall  be  able  for  my  work. 
You  can  have  the  horses  hitched  up  and  ready 
for  me  before  you  wake  me." 

And  then  the  girl  lay  down  in  the  warm  tent 
— for  a  tent  with  even  the  tiniest  stove  in  it  is  a 
very  warm  abode  in  the  coldest  weather,  con- 
trary to  what  some  might  think — and  slept  a 
refreshing  and  safe  sleep.  As  for  the  two  men 
they  had  no  time  to  lose.  They  put  the  duti- 
able goods  into  one  of  the  wagons,  and,  hitch- 
ing up  four  of  the  best  horses  into  it,  Francois 
started  off.  Having  hunted  the  buffalo  and  the 
deer  for  years  in  the  country  he  had  to  travel 
over,  it  is,  perhaps,  unnecessary  to  add  that  by 
nightfall  he  had  safely  got  rid  of  his  cargo 
alongside  the  main  line  of  the  Canadian  Pacific 
Railway. 

Gabriel  watched  the  girl  while  she  slept,  and 


B  pursuit,  a  Capture,  a  Surprise.    135 

now  that  Francois  had  gone,  and  he  was  alone 
with  his  own  thoughts,  he  had  a  bad  time  with 
them.  He  had  told  himself,  over  and  over  again, 
that  all  the  illegal  adventures  he  had  been  con- 
nected with,  that  all  the  money  which,  somehow, 
he  had  lately  got  so  fond  of  amassing,  were  all 
for  the  sake  of  Marie,  and  that  she  would  be 
benefited  in  the  end.  But  now — and  the  thought 
startled  him  with  a  painful  implacability— what 
Tf  this  last  uncalled-for  adventure  had  cost 
Marie  her  life,  what  then  had  been  his  gain  ? 
Would  not  all  the  money  that  he  had  been 
striving  after  for  years  be  so  much  dross  to 
him,  and  hateful  in  his  sight  ?  Would  his  case 
not  be  like  that  of  the  man  who,  in  gaining  the 
whole  world,  lost  his  own  soul  ?  He  pictured 
her  as  he  had  seen  her  lying  on  that  ghastly 
ridge,  sleeping  that  sleep  that  might  know  no 
waking.  Surely  in  his  finding  her  then  there 
was  the  finger  of  Providence  pointing  to  a 
solemn  warning.  How  near,  how  terribly  near, 
that  dread  realization  it  had  been.  He  could 
bear  the  thought  no  longer,  and  sprang  to  his 
feet.  Then  he  fell  on  his  knees,  and  in  that 
tent,  and  in  the  presence  of  his  sleeping 
daughter,  he  grovelled  in  an  agony  of  shame. 

He  uttered  a  few  broken  and  imperfect 
words ;  but  they  died  upon  his  lips.  How 
could  a  man  like  him  dare  to  pray  ?  Was  it 
not  like  mere  blasphemous  presumption  on  his 
part  to  thank  God  for  her  deliverance  ?  Not 
that  he  in  his  heart  had  looked  upon  the  traffic 
he  was  engaged  in  as  a  grievous  sin  ;  but  what 
right  had  he,  as  a  father,  to  risk  the  life  and 
happiness  of  his  child  ?  If  he,  in  his  sense  of 
what  was  right  and  what  was  wrong,  feared  in 
his  humiliation,  to  ask  God  for  forgiveness, 
then,  perhaps,  there  was  some  virtue  in  his  ab- 
negation, for  he  rose  from  his  knees  a  better 


136  Sinners 

Then  Gabriel  hitched  up  the  horses  into  the 
wagon,  and  soon  the  girl  awoke  of  her  own 
accord.  She  drank  some  hot  tea,  and  partook 
of  some  food,  and,  as  she  herself  declared,  was 
"fit  for  any  amount  of  exposure  and  fatigue." 
But  she  was  adamant  when  she  refused  to  allow 
her  father  to  accompany  her. 

"  You  must  wrap  me  well  up  in  the  robes, 
dad,  and  make  your  own  way  back  to  the 
ranche.  I  know  every  foot  of  mine  ;  have  I 
not  driven  on  the  prairie  scores  and  scores  of 
times?" 

He  wrapped  her  carefully  up  as  he  was  bid  ; 
then,  with  sad  misgivings,  he  saw  her  drive  off. 
He  watched  as,  with  skilled  hand  and  practised 
eyes,  she  guided  the  horses  by  a  circuitous 
route  back  to  where  she  cut  her  own  tracks ; 
and  long  after,  when  horses  and  wagon  had 
become  a  dark  wavering  speck  on  the  prairie, 
he  kept  gazing  after  her.  He  did  not  leave  that 
elevated  spot  he  had  climbed  to  until  about  an 
hour  and  a  half  afterwards,  when  he  saw  the 
approach  of  the  police  party.  When  he  ob- 
served them  get  upon  her  trail  and  follow  it  up, 
he  knew  that  she  was  safe,  and  now  he  could 
go  on  his  way.  He  slipped  on  the  snowshoes 
she  had  left  with  him,  and  made  a  bee-line  back 
to  the  ranche. 

Next  day,  when  the  police  party  made  back 
to  Gabriel's  place,  they  met  him  on  his  way  to 
bring  back  the  empty  wagon  that  Marie  had 
driven  off.  But  they  could  not  interfere  with 
him.  The  drifting  snow  in  the  night  had  oblit- 
erated all  tracks  ;  and,  perhaps,  they  knew  it 
was  useless  asking  him  questions.  Dick  Town- 
ley  avers  that  he  saw  the  sergeant  take  Gabriel 
out  on  the  prairie,  and  if  the  latter  "  ever  got  a 
wigging  in  all  his  life,  he  got  one  then."  The 
youthful  trooper  also  remarked  that  Gabriel 
never  lifted  his  head  when  Harry  Yorke  was 


21  pursuit,  a  Capture,  a  Surprise.  137 

hotly  declaiming,  but  kept  it  sunk  on  his  breast 
as  if  he  knew  he  were  getting  something  that 
he  deserved. 

As  for  Marie,  it  has  already  been  shown  how 
she  led  the  police  a  pretty  dance.  It  was  a 
unique  thing,  truly,  for  a  girl  who,  only  a  few 
hours  before,  had  been  perilously  near  that 
bourne  from  which  no  traveler  returns,  to  be 
guiding  a  wagon  over  the  prairie,  and  indulg- 
ing in  all  sorts  of  speculations.  But  such  are 
the  recuperative  powers  of  youth  and  sleep  that, 
when  one  comes  to  think  of  the  circumstances, 
there  was  nothing  so  very  remarkable  in  it  after 
all.  Truly,  as  the  sage  said,  Woman  is  a  many- 
minded  creature.  It  would  have  puzzled  the 
sage  still  more  to  have  followed  the  erratic  train 
of  thought  which  Marie  St.  Denis  indulged  in 
during  that  long  drive,  for  Marie's  was  a  com- 
plex mind.  Who  would  have  thought,  for  in- 
stance, that  one  minute  after  becoming  preter- 
naturally  grave  as  she  speculated  on  what  Harry 
Yorke  would  think  of  her  when  he  discovered 
what  his  promise  to  her  had  entailed  upon  the 
police  party,  she  should  then  indulge  in  a 
mind-picture,  in  which  the  gallant  police  officer 
figured  prominently.  She  thought  she  saw  his 
face  when  he  made  up  upon  the  team,  and  dis- 
covered that,  instead  of  capturing  her  father 
and  a  cargo  of  whiskey,  he  only  found  a  girl  and 
an  empty  wagon.  She  even  laughed  merrily 
to  herself  when  she  pictured  that  face.  But 
she  had  to  keep  the  horses  up  to  their  work  so  as 
not  to  spoil  the  picture  by  any  premature  dis- 
closure. 

As  has  been  hinted  at  before,  the  girl's  ever- 
changing  face  was  a  reflex  of  her  mind,  and  it 
was  a  complex  one  ;  for,  while  her  nature  was 
unselfish,  and  had  a  great  capacity  for  good, 
there  was  a  considerable  spark  of  old  Mother 
Eve  in  her  after  all. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE      PULLMAN      AND       THE       SNOW-CLAD 
PRAIRIE. 

A  COUPLE  of  Mounted  Policemen  are  stand- 
ing on  the  wooden  platform  of  the  Canadian 
Pacific  Railway  at  Medicine  Hat,  awaiting  the 
arrival  of  the  east-bound  train  which  is  to  take 
them  to  headquarters  at  Regina,  the  capital  of 
Assiniboia.  One  is  the  sergeant,  Harry  Yorke, 
and  the  other  Dick  Townley,  the  private. 
They  are  somewhat  differently  dressed  now 
that  they  are  traveling  per  rail.  They  wear 
bear-skin  caps  with  yellow  badges,  fur  coats — 
concealing  the  dragoon's  showy  scarlet  tunic — 
dark-blue  riding  breeches  with  a  yellow  stripe, 
and  long,  brilliantly-polished  top-boots  ;  for  the 
weather  is  hardly  cold  enough  for  moccasins. 
Standing  near  them  is  Pierre,  the  fat,  bright- 
eyed  little  scout,  with  a  somewhat  lugubrious 
expression  on  his  face,  keeping  his  eye  on  a 
bulky  and  somewhat  dilapidated  bundle,  which 
contains  some  spare  wearing  apparel  that  he 
will  on  no  account  have  put  into  the  freight  van 
— risky  and  mysterious  receptacle  in  Pierre's 
eyes — but  will  insist  on  lugging  about  with  him, 
so  precious  is  it  in  his  sight.  The  two  policemen 
are,  if  not  actually  under  arrest,  yet  going  to 
headquarters  for  safe  keeping,  until  certain 
charges  that  are  to  be  brought  against  them  by 
Inspector  Bounder  are  investigated.  The  little 
scout  is  going  down  to  give  evidence,  and  to  be 
made  use  of  by  doing  a  little  horse-breaking  at 
the  same  time,  much  against  his  will. 

And  now  up  comes  the  heavy  train,  and  they 


tlbe  Pullman  anD  prairie.        139 

get  into  one  of  the  long,  rather  over-heated 
cars,  divest  themselves  of  their  overcoats,  and 
prepare  to  make  themselves  as  comfortable  as 
circumstances  will  permit.  The  great  bell  on 
the  engine  clangs,  and  on  they  go  again. 

What  immense  precipitous  cut-banks  of  clay 
overhang  the  frozen  bed  of  the  Saskatchewan 
river.  How  typical  the  wooden  and  painted 
Mounted  Police  post  looks  on  the  opposite  bank, 
with  its  tall  flagstaff  in  the  centre  of  the  square. 
Harry  Yorke  regarded  it  somewhat  sadly! 
"  Good-bye,  Old  Fort,"  he  said ;  "  I  spent  some 
happy  days  in  you."  He  knew  he  would  never 
be  in  it  again — at  least  in  an  official  capacity. 

Then,  with  a  loud  shriek,  the  train  left  the 
Saskatchewan  valley,  and  made  a  dash  at  the 
heavy  grade  that  ascends  through  the  rather 
pretty  valley  of  Ross  Creek  into  the  open  prai- 
rie a  mile  or  two  farther  on.  In  twenty  min- 
utes they  were  out  again  upon  that  apparently 
unbroken  and  boundless  expanse  of  ocean-like 
prairie,  and  bowled  along  a  track  which  is  so 
level,  so  straight,  and  so  apparently  limitless 
that  to  look  along  it  to  where  the  rails  become 
one  and  meet  the  horizon  line,  seems  to  be  look- 
ing upon  a  band  of  steel  that  girds  the  world. 
Away  to  the  south  one  could  see  the  broken 
outline  of  the  Cypress  Hills  keeping  watch  over 
the  surrounding  country.  Sixty  miles  more, 
and  the  little  town  of  Maple  Creek  is  passed, 
with  its  stone  store — a  rather  rare  thing  on 
these  prairies — and  two  little  wooden  churches. 
About  a  couple  of  miles  to  the  south,  painted 
white,  and  just  beyond  the  maple-fringed  creek 
that  runs  into  the  prairie,  are  the  Mounted  Po- 
lice barracks.  At  the  station,  as  at  most  others, 
the  greater  part  of  the  population  turned  out  to 
witness  the  great  event  of  the  day — the  arrival 
and  departure  of  the  cars— and  then  the  train 
hurried  on  again.  Several  miles  farther  on 


140  Sinners  {Twain. 

another  station— Colley.  But  there  was  noth- 
ing at  this  point  save  a  water-tank  and  the 
eternal  section-house ;  not  another  house  in 
sight ;  nothing  but  rolling,  snow-clad  prairie, 
and  a  broken  fringe  of  straggling  undergrowth 
marking  the  course  of  the  winding  creek.  Here 
Harry  Yorke  looked  out  somewhat  thought- 
fully. He  could  remember  when  the  Governor- 
General  of  Canada  was  traveling  through  the 
country,  how  he  had  stopped  at  this  point  on 
the  previous  autumn  and  he  had  made  one  of 
the  little  party  who  had  met  the  Governor's 
special  train  that  had  been  side-tracked,  to  per- 
mit of  their  enjoying  the  shooting  of  some  prai- 
rie chickens,  and  a  scamper  on  horseback. 
Poor  Oliver  Morphy,  his  comrade  on  that  occa- 
sion ;  the  dark,  cold  waters  of  Lake  Winipeg, 
only  a  few  months  before,  had  claimed  a  staunch 
comrade  and  as  leal  a  heart  as  ever  beat  in  hu- 
man breast. 

Light  let  the  turf,  under  which  you  were  at 
last  laid,  rest  upon  your  breast,  dear  comrade : 
for  your  memory  is  ever  with  us  as  green  as  in 
springtime. 

In  that  mysterious  land  to  which  we  all  are 
journeying,  if  there  be  such  a  thing  as  a  re- 
union with  those  who  have  gone  on  before,  may 
we  meet  you  there,  and  feel  again  the  hearty, 
firm  grip  of  your  honest  hand.  From  this  side 
the  chasm  that  yawns  between  the  finite  and 
the  eternal,  and  which  death  alone  can  bridge, 
our  hearts  go  out  to  you,  our  all  too  feeble 
voices  greet  you  :  Was  hiel —  Was  hiel  I 

And  you  young  de  Beaujeu,  who  perished 
with  him :  a  worthy  representative  of  a  worthy 
race — those  loyal  subjects  the  French  Cana- 
dians !  Peace  be  with  you. 

There  were  quite  a  few  passengers  aboard 
the  train,  albeit  it  was  the  dull  season — a  few 
bagmen,  one  or  two  disappointed  emigrants  re- 


Gbe  Pullman  anD  prairte.        141 

turning  from  British  Columbia,  Seattle  or  Ta- 
coma,  a  contingent  of  naval  men  from  Esqui- 
mault,  a  few  Australians  who  had  come  by  the 
Yokohama  route,  a  few  ranchers  from  Alberta 
going  east  to  visit  their  friends  in  Lower  Can- 
ada, and  a  few  belonging  to  that  nondescript 
genus,  the  representatives  of  which  are  only  to 
be  found  in  perfection  on  the  American  Conti- 
nent. The  business  of  such  men  lying  in  cheap 
and  remarkable  commodities  of  a  novel  and 
original  nature,  and  in  the  advertising  columns 
of  cheap  newspapers :  they  live  by  their  wits 
and  on  the  absence  of  them  in  other  people. 
Judging  by  the  fact  that  they  always  seem  to  have 
plenty  of  money,  they  must  be  very  wise  men 
indeed,  and  the  people  they  do  business  with 
must  be  very  great  fools.  The  Canadian  Pa- 
cific Railway  somewhat  resembles  the  Suez 
Canal :  it  is  one  of  the  world's  great  highways, 
and  a  place  where,  figuratively  speaking,  all 
sorts  and  conditions  of  strange  crafts  are  con- 
gested. The  student  of  human  nature  has  as 
motley  a  crowd  to  study  from  as  he  could  well 
find  brought  together,  in  a  like  space,  in  any 
part  of  the  world.  Moreover,  the  series  of 
large  Pullman  cars  which  permit  of  the  traveler 
passing  from  one  to  the  other,  and  joining  any 
little  particular  party  which  he  thinks  he  may 
safely  venture  into,  makes  what  might  other- 
wise be  a  somewhat  long  and  tedious  journey 
an  oft-times  entertaining,  and  by  no  means  un- 
pleasant one. 

Despite  the  rather  vague  charge  of  neglect  of 
duty  that  led  to  the  frustration  of  the  ends  of 
justice,  and  which  the  sergeant  knew  was  hang- 
ing over  him,  he  did  not  allow  the  fact  to  inter- 
fere much  with  his  peace  of  mind.  Indeed,  so 
far  as  Harry  Yorke  was  concerned,  he  had  a 
shrewd  suspicion  that  as  he  had  some  time  ago 
not  sent  in  his  notice  for  re-engagement  (seeing 


142  Sinners  Hwain. 

his  term  of  service  expired  in  about  a  month's 
time),  it  was  just  as  likely  as  not  that  he  should 
find  himself  shipped  away  before  then  to  one  of 
the  farthest  outposts  of  the  far  North — to 
Onion  Lake  or  the  Peace  River,  where  he  would 
be  entirely  out  of  touch  with  the  world,  and 
from  which  (if  he  did  not  re-engage  again)  it 
would  cost  him  a  small  fortune  to  get  back  to 
the  main  line  of  the  Canadian  Pacific  Railway. 
This  was  one  of  those  unpleasant  little  myste- 
ries that  occasionally  crossed  the  path  of  the 
North-West  Mounted  Policeman.  As  to 
whether  his  arch  enemy,  Inspector  Bounder, 
succeeded  or  not  in  having  him  reduced  to  the 
ranks,  was  now  a  matter  of  comparatively  little 
moment.  He  knew  that,  in  any  case,  he 
deserved  it.  He  would  not  excuse  himself  in 
his  own  eyes ;  and  though  he  knew  that  if  he 
were  placed  in  a  similar  position  again  he  would 
do  exactly  as  he  had  done,  he  realized,  all  the 
same,  that  no  man  has  a  right  to  allow  a  selfish 
love — or  call  it  what  you  will — to  divert  his 
steps  from  the  straight  path  of  duty.  True,  it 
would  gall  him  in  a  way  that  only  one  who  has 
striven  for  and  earned  his  stripes  can  feel,  to 
find  them  rudely  taken  from  him  for  "  disgrace- 
ful conduct,"  as  the  powers  that  be  are  pleased 
to  term  it  with  a  sublime  indifference  as  to 
whether  the  offence  has  arisen  from  an  error  of 
judgment  or  wilful  neglect.  True,  it  was  con- 
sidered an  understood  and  no  disgraceful  thing 
in  the  force  for  a  man  when  put  upon  his  trial 
to  make  the  best  even  of  a  bad  case ;  and  be  it 
said  to  the  credit  of  the  greater  bulk  of  the 
officers,  they  generally  gave  the  arraigned  one 
the  benefit  of  a  doubt. 

But  all  these  things  were  of  comparative 
unimportance  compared  to  the  one  great  thought 
that  had  gradually  grown  upon  and  taken  pos- 
session of  him — what  about  Marie  St.  Denis, 


£be  Pullman  an&  prairie.        143 

that  girl  whose  beauty  had  not  only  contrasted 
so  strongly  with  her  strange  surroundings  and 
gained  upon  him,  but  whose  innate  nobility  of 
mind,  and  capacity  for  self-sacrifice,  had 
aroused  in  him  the  spirit  of  admiration,  and 
then  the  inevitable  further  development? 
What  was  he  to  do  about  her  ?  How  was  he 
to  hear  of  her  ?  He  knew  her  father  had  all 
but  completed  arrangements  to  sell  out  every- 
thing, make  his  way  south  into  the  States,  and 
then,  with  that  nomadic  spirit  of  his,  and  the 
pride  of  the  girl,  it  would  be  a  very  natural 
thing  indeed  for  him  to  lose  sight  of  her  alto- 
gether. And  then ?  But  would  it  not 

be  better  so — better  that  he  should  never  see 
her  again  ?  Had  he  dreamt  of  such  a  contin- 
gency when  he  first  saw  her — of  doing  such  a 
mad  thing  as  fall  in  love  with  her,  he  would 
have  turned  his  back  on  her  right  there  and 
then.  Could  he,  a  man  who  belonged  to  a  very 
different  sphere  of  life  from  that  which  his  pres- 
ent occupation  would  have  denoted,  who  came 
of  a  family  of  considerable  standing,  ally  him- 
self— assuming,  of  course,  what  he  had  no 
right  to  assume,  that  the  girl  herself  were  will- 
ing—to the  daughter  of  an  illiterate  adventurer 
and  smuggler  whom  he  would  be  ashamed  to 
be  seen  with  in  public,  even  although  the  name 
of  the  man  in  question  was  St.  Denis. 

Then  he  asked  himself  what  his  family  would 
say  when  they  came  to  hear  that  he  had  made 
what  they  would  naturally  consider  was  an 
undesirable  connection  ?  But  again,  he  put  the 
question  to  himself :  was  it  not  just  like  the 
selfish  want  of  consideration,  peculiar  to  rela- 
tives in  general,  to  want  to  control  his  heart's 
most  sacred  promptings,  when  they  would  not 
move  a  hand  of  their  own  free  will  to  enable 
him  to  earn  a  crust  of  bread  ?  True,  they  had 
loaded  him  with  gratuitous  advice  many  a  time : 


144  Sinners  ftwafn. 

sage  admonitions  bristling  with  hoary  old  saws, 
when  they  thought  that,  figuratively  speaking, 
it  was  just  possible  he  meant  "  to  kick  over  the 
traces,"  when  a  gentle  guiding  hand  was  all  he 
wanted  ?  Had  they  not  even  ignored  his 
existence  altogether,  when  they  feared  that  a 
closer  acquaintanceship  might  mean  some 
slight  demand  upon  the  plethora  of  their  own 
resources?  He  was  no  cynic  or  pessimist, 
although  he  knew  that  sweeter  far  a  crust  of 
bread  and  independence  than  the  good  things 
of  this  life  under  the  uncompromising  name  of 
charity.  For  in  the  humbler  paths  of  life  that 
he  had  trod,  he  had  met  with  those  who,  to  the 
full,  realized  the  noble  truth  of  that  saying,  "  It 
is  more  blessed  to  give  than  to  receive."  God 
help  the  shallow  souls  who  sneer  at  the  story 
of  the  widow's  mite  !  they  want  help — badly. 

But  this  were  weighing  the  question  from  a 
material  point  of  view — disposing  of  it  by  a  sel- 
fish and  sordid  standard.  Yes,  even  if  his 
family  said  to  him,  "  you  must  not  marry  one 
in  such  and  such  a  station  of  life ;  you  must 
marry  one  in  ours  ! "  and  would  not  help  him 
to  attain  to  that  position  in  life  which  would 
enable  him  to  do  so.  Still,  that  was  no  reason 
to  make  him  persevere  all  the  more  in  his 
obvious  course.  Admitting  the  oft-proved  dis- 
astrous results  arising  from  a  man  being  led 
away  by  a  transient  passion,  and  marrying  one 
beneath  him  in  moral,  mental,  and  worldly 
respects,  thus  debarring  all  the  essential  weld- 
ing effects  of  affinity — was  she  not,  after  all,  in 
most  respects  his  equal  ? 

He  felt,  indeed,  that  in  many  respects  she  was 
infinitely  superior  to  him.  So  far  as  her  own 
personality  was  concerned,  she  had  a  face  and 
a  manner  that  would  distinguish  her  in  any 
sphere  of  society :  there  was  little  difference 
between  her  and  any  well-born  and  cultured 


Gbe  Pullman  an&  praftfc.       145 

Old-Country  girl.  So  far  as  dress  and  certain 
little  unorthodoxies  of  manner  were  concerned, 
she  had  a  mind  that  was  quick  to  perceive  and 
assimilate;  these  imperfections — if  such  they 
could  be  called — were,  therefore,  not  insuper- 
able objections.  Moreover,  she  was  a  born 
gentlewoman  although  she  had  been  reared  in  a 
log  house  and  her  father  had  only  been  a 
species  of  adventurer,  and  smuggler  to  boot. 
Moreover,  had  she  not  been  partly  brought  up 
in  a  convent,  and  received  as  deep  and  compre- 
hensive an  education  as  would  put  the  expen- 
sive, ornamental,  and  often  superficial  so-called 
finished  educations  of  some  of  Britain's  fashion- 
able ladies'  colleges  to  the  blush?  Colleges, 
where  a  confused  and  meaningless  reference  to 
certain  art  topics,  a  few  glib  references  to 
Herbert  Spencer,  or  the  prevailing  quasi-ethical 
or  scientific  fad  of  the  day,  passes  for  erudition. 
Besides,  she  bore  the  name  of  St.  Denis.  But, 
after  all,  had  things  been  different :  had  not 
this  cold-blooded  calculating  way  of  weighing 
all  the  possible  contingencies  militating  against 
his  desire  to  possess  her  been  satisfactory,  it  is 
possible  that  he  would  have  been  but  little  in- 
fluenced by  them.  At  least  he  had  come 
perilously  near  that  stage.  The  question  that 
exercised  him  most  now  was — did  she  care  for 
him  ?  Think  as  he  might,  she  had  given  him 
no  sign  whatever  of  either  positive  liking  or  dis- 
like. Then  his  pride  came  to  his  aid,  and  the 
thought  of  a  previous  experience  to  his  mind — 
was  he,  then,  going  to  stake  his  happiness  by 
surrendering  himself  to  the  caprice  of  any 
woman  ?  He  would  see  if  a  little  delay  would 
not  work  a  change  in  him.  The  bustle  of 
Regina  would  enable  him  to  forget  her — if  he 
could. 

Then  the  east-bound  train  rattled   on  past 
Crane   Lake,   Gull   Lake,  Goose  Lake,    these 


146  Sinners  {Twain. 

stretches  of  water  being  now  indistinguishable 
from  the  leagues  of  monotonous  rolling  prairie 
by  reason  of  their  ice-bound  and  snowy  man- 
tles. Every  little  station-house  they  passed 
was  exactly  like  its  neighbor.  That  is,  a 
weather-boarded  and  gabled  two-storied  build- 
ing, painted  a  warm  brown  color,  a  strip  of 
wooden  platform,  in  front  of  which  were  two 
steel  rails  which  seemed  to  go  out  and  on  into 
infinite  space,  and  a  row  of  telegraph  poles, 
which  dwindled  away  at  the  horizon  line  to  a 
well-defined  point,  offering  one  of  the  finest 
lessons  in  perspective  that  the  youthful  and 
inquiring  mind  could  possibly  have. 

To  the  unthinking  mind,  perhaps,  this  jour- 
ney over  the  prairie  may  be  a  monotonous  one  ; 
but  to  the  thinker  and  the  lover  of  Nature  in 
her  many  moods,  the  spirit  of  grim  utilitarian- 
ism, in  the  presence  of  the  engine  that  hurries 
him  along,  is  lost  sight  of ;  there  is,  instead,  a 
realization  of  that  glamor  which  surrounds  our 
youthful  conceptions  of  the  illimitable  new- 
world  prairie  lands— where  from  the  rising  to 
the  setting  sun  the  picturesque  Red  man  and 
the  countless  herds  of  buffalo  reigned  supreme. 
It  is  more  than  a  glimpse  of  that  mystic  prairie 
whose  very  air  is  pregnant  with  romance,  and 
which  will  stir  the  blood  in  the  veins  of  youth, 
and  fire  the  imagination  of  old  as  well  as  young 
for  all  time  to  come — at  least  until  man  has 
been  evolved  into  that  in  which  all  traces  of  his 
savage  ancestry  have  been  lost,  and,  therefore, 
the  old  instincts  cease  to  move  him. 

Swift  Current,  and  the  welcome  intimation 
"Luncheon  is  served  in  the  dining-car." 
And  those  of  the  passengers  who  could  afford 
50  cents  made  for  the  second  last  car — that 
hotel  upon  wheels,  where,  be  it  said  in  justice 
to  the  Canadian  Pacific  Railway,  one  can 
always  get  a  substantial  and  very  daintily 


Gbe  Pullman  ana  prairie,        147 

served  little  meal,  a  good  glass  of  wine,  and 
a  fairly  good  cigar  at  a  moderate  figure.  The 
C.  P.  R.  does  all  things  well. 

"  You  and  Pierre  can  go  in  and  have  your 
lunch,"  said  Harry  Yorke  to  Townley.  "  I 
don't  feel  like  it  just  at  present.  I'll  come  in 
later  on  and  get  a  cup  of  tea." 

"  Why,  Harry,"  said  the  youth,  "  don't  let 

it ,"  but  he  broke  off  suddenly  when  he 

looked  at  his  comrade's  face,  and  only  said, 
"  I'm  sorry  you  don't  feel  like  it,  old  chap. 
If  I  didn't  know  you,  I'd  say  you  stood  on  the 
dignity  of  your  three  stripes.  'Allans,  Sancho." 

And  the  idea  regarding  the  stripes  so  seemed 
to  tickle  the  irreverent  youngster  that  he 
indulged  in  a  grim  chuckle.  For  the  non-com- 
missioned officers  of  the  Mounted  Police,  be  it 
said  to  their  credit,  relied  in  reality  more  upon 
the  force  and  influence  of  their  individuality 
than  any  mere  supremacy  which  rank  gave 
them,  which,  of  course,  was  essential  in  its 
way.  Then  the  private  caught  the  little  scout 
by  the  arm,  and  marched  him  along  towards 
the  well-appointed  Pullman  dining-car.  Here 
a  little  incident  occurred — trifling  in  itself — but 
serving  to  show  the  comedies  we  sometimes 
unwittingly  take  part  in. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

IN  WHICH  THE    PRECOCIOUS    PRIVATE  GETS 

EVEN  WITH  THE  SERGEANT  AND 

THE  SCOUT. 

WHEN  Dick  Townley  and  Pierre  entered 
the  dining-car  they  found  that  they  could  not 
get  seats  together,  and  so  sat  down  at  differ- 
ent tables.  Opposite  the  former,  at  the  same 
table — each  table  is  seated  for  four — were  two 
gentlemen,  whom  he  had  never  seen  before. 
One  was  a  tall,  spare,  goodly-featured  man  with 
a  military .  appearance.  He  was  dressed  after 
a  prevailing  English  fashion,  wearing  a  Norfolk 
jacket  and  knicker-breeches.  The  other  was  a 
stout,  elderly  gentleman  who  wore  a  frock-coat, 
and  was  unmistakably  a  Frenchman.  By  his 
manner,  which  was  not  unkindly,  he  seemed  to 
be  some  one  of  consequence.  This  conclusion 
to  a  stranger,  would  have  been  further  fostered 
by  the  way  the  attendants  waited  upon  him. 
But  Private  Townley  was  hungry,  and  as  he 
considered,  properly  enough,  that  a  Mounted 
Policeman,  as  long  as  he  behaved  himself,  was 
just  as  good  as  any  other  body,  he  sat  down 
opposite  the  Frenchman  of  consequence,  afore- 
said, and  politely  requested  the  English-looking 
gentleman  to  pass  him  the  bill  of  fare.  This 
the  latter  did  with  a  pleasant  smile. 

The  two  friends,  as  they  seemed  to  be,  went 
on  talking  pleasantly  together,  apparently 
oblivious  of  the  private's  presence  ;  and  the 
latter  went  on  with  his  lunch.  Gradually  the 
car  somewhat  emptied  again  ;  but  still  the 


£be  private  (Sets  Bvett.         149 

two  men  opposite  Dick  Townley  sat  talking, 
and  he  still  leisurely  continued  eating.  The 
English-looking  gentleman  had  ordered  a  large 
bottle  of  claret,  and  he  and  his  friend  were  en- 
joying it.  At  length  the  two  in  the  course  of 
their  conversation  drifted  into  a  controversy  as 
to  the  pronunciation  of  the  Latin  word,  ecce,  as 
used  in  the  title  "  Ecce  Homo." 

"  I  tell  you  what," — Dick  did  not  catch  the 
name — "the  pronunciation  is  es-ce.  The  first 
'  c '  like  an  '  s '  you  know,"  said  the  English- 
looking  gentleman. 

"  No,  Colonel,  I  shan't  have  it " — "  Ameri- 
cans after  all,"  said  Dick  to  himself — "  one 
ought  to  pronounce  it  like  ekky.  '  C  '  like  a  '  k,' 
you  know,"  rejoined  the  French-looking  gen- 
tleman, pleasantly. 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  the  other,  "  I'm  sorry  to 
differ  from  you ;  but — I  wonder  how  we  can 
settle  this  ?  " 

He  looked  hard  at  Dick,  who  was  modestly 
draining  the  last  of  his  pint  of  Carling,  and  seem- 
ingly satisfied  with  his  scrutiny  addressed  him 
quietly. 

"  Do  you — Constable — er " 

"  Townley,"  suggested  Dick ;  wondering 
somewhat  at  this  formal  but  correct  mode  of 
address.  "  At  least  I  understand  they  christ- 
ened me  so." 

"  Well,  Constable  Townley — but  pass  your 
claret-glass,  I  don't  think  it  will  disagree  with 
the  beer." 

He  filled  up  Dick's  glass,  no  dissent  being 
made. 

"  Might  I  ask  you  if  you  happen  to  know  the 
proper  pronunciation  of  the  word  Ecce — '  Ecce 
Homo'  you  know.  Is  it  not  pronounced 
es-sz  ?" 

"  Sorry  to  disagree  with  you,"  answered  Dick, 
with  brutal  candor,  "  but  you're  wrong." 


150  Sinners  Gwafn. 

The  smile  on  his  face,  however,  somewhat 
made  up  for  the  disappointment  conveyed  in 
the  words. 

The  English-looking  gentleman's  face  fell 
somewhat;  the  other  one  laughed  loudly,  and 
seemed  much  elated. 

"  There,  now,  Colonel,"  he  cried.  "  Didn't 
I  tell  you  you  were  wrong !  It's  e-k-k-y.  Ekky 
Homo,  Mr-er  Townley,  is  it  not  ?  I  knew  you 
were  wrong,  Colonel." 

"But  you're  wrong,  too,"  was  the  same  bru- 
tal comment,  with  the  same  pleasant  smile. 

The  two  gentlemen  stared  blankly  at  one 
another  for  a  minute ;  and  the  one  who  wore 
the  knicker-breeches  said  somewhat  dryly,  but 
still  with  a  certain  significant  deference — 

"Then  how  do  you  pronounce  the  word? 
and,  perhaps,  you  might  give  us  your  authority 
for  so  doing,  at  the  same  time.  Surely  one  of 
us  must  be  right." 

"  Doesn't  follow,"  rejoined  the  youth,  easily, 
but  modestly.  "  There's  a  third  way,  if  you 
recognize  such  a  thing  as  a  classical  precedent, 
and  that  is  to  pronounce  it  as  if  it  were  Ex-ce 
Homo,  the  '  c '  like  '  x,'  you  know.  Cambridge 
is  my  authority."  Then  he  added  with  a  de- 
preciatory little  laugh  as  he  held  his  half-empty 
claret-glass  up  to  the  light,  and  regarded  it 
with  the  air  of  a  connoisseur  :  "  But  hang  it  all, 
you  know,  gentlemen,  I  don't  see  why  you 
should  take  such  a  trifling  little  matter  of  use- 
and-wont  so  seriously.  Besides,  Cambridge  is 
not  immaculate,  or  the  world,  after  all.  It  has 
its  little  affectations  just  like  other  places,  for 
which  it  can  no  more  give  logical  reasons  than 
I  could  if  I  said  the  Devil  spoke  the  Irish  lan- 
guage and  spelt  his  name  with  an  h.  You've 
got  institutions  in  the  States  that  could  lay 
Cambridge  long  odds  in  many  lines  I've  no 
doubt ;  at  the  same  time,  don't  think  I  mean  to 
disparage  Cambridge." 


Gbe  private  <3ets  Even.         151 

At  this  stage  of  the  proceedings  Dick  heard 
a  violent  fit  of  coughing  ;  looking  over  the  left 
shoulder  of  the  portly  Frenchman,  he  caught  a 
glimpse  of  the  round  moon-like  face  of  Pierre, 
the  scout.  On  it  was  a  strange  look  of  mingled 
consternation,  entreaty,  and  warning.  Seeing 
that  he  had  attracted  the  private's  attention, 
Pierre  straightway  indulged  in  a  violent  facial 
pantomime,  which,  however,  failed  in  its  object, 
in  that  it  only  awakened  a  sense  of  the  ludicrous 
in  the  light-hearted  private,  who  could  make,  so 
to  speak,  neither  head  nor  tail  of  it.  That  the 
scout  meant  to  convey  some  information  to  him 
was  evident.  But,  surely,  to  observe  such 
mystery  was  absurd.  Dick  Townley  regarded 
him  sternly.  He  dearly  relished  a  joke  at  the 
little  scout's  expense. 

"  I  say,  Pierre,"iie  said  loud  enough  for  the 
scout  to  hear,  and  talking  over  the  stout  gentle- 
man's shoulder,  "  what  on  earth  is  the  matter 
with  you  ?  you  put  me  in  mind  of  a  sick  mon- 
key or  a  nigger  with  St.  Vitus's  dance.  Can't 
you  behave  like  a  Christian  ?  Come  right  for- 
ward and  talk  out  like  a  man  if  you  have  any- 
thing to  say.  But,  Sancho,  old  chap,  perhaps 
you'd  like  to  do  another  bottle  of  beer  first. 
Just  give  that  little  round  metal  business  a  dig 
on  the  top  with  your  fist ;  in  polite  society  the 
vernacular  for  this  is  'jerking the  tickler  ';  don't 
forget  that,  Pierre." 

But  Pierre  had  risen  with  a  look  of  horror  on 
his  face,  and,  without  bestowing  another  look 
upon  the  private,  made  his  way  out  of  the 
car  as  quickly  as  his  short  legs  would  carry 
him. 

"  Well,  I  never ! "  said  Dick  Townley, 
amusedly. 

"  Nor  yet  I,"  echoed  the  stout  gentleman, 
looking  curiously  at  his  companion. 

Then,  as  if  something  remarkably  funny  had 


i52  Sinners 

occurred  to  the  three  of  them,  they  leant  back 
in  their  seats  and  indulged  in  a  hearty  laugh. 
Just  at  that  moment,  in  the  mirror  that  faced 
the  private  at  the  far  end  of  the  car,  he  saw  the 
door  behind  him  open,  and  Harry  Yorke,  the 
sergeant,  looked  in.  In  that  mirror  he  caught 
his  eyes,  though  his  back  was  to  him,  and  there 
was  a  peculiarly  puzzled  and  concentrated  look 
in  them.  Dick  called  out — 

"  I  say,  Harry — Sergeant,  I  mean  " — it  would 
not  do  to  be  too  familiar  before  the  general  pub- 
lic—" Deuce  take  it !  he's  gone  too !  Why, 
what  ^on  earth  is  the  matter  with  them,  I  won- 
der ?  "  This  air  of  mystery  was  really  annoy- 

The  two  friends  appealed  to  seemed  to  dis- 
cover another  good  joke,  and  laughed  heartily. 
Somehow  the  private  could  not  exactly  see  what 
they  were  laughing  at  this  time. 

"  Was  that  Sergeant  Yorke  ?  "  quietly  asked 
the  gentleman  with  the  knicker-breeches. 

"  All  there  is  meant  for  him,"  was  the  explicit 
reply.  "But  you  seem  to  know  him,"  Dick 
added,  somewhat  surprised. 

"  I  have  the  honor  of  being  slightly  acquainted 
with  him,"  was  the  unconcerned  reply. 

Somehow  his  manner  did  not  invite  further 
inquiry  into  the  matter,  and  Dick  Townley  rose 
from  the  table.  He  wanted  to  get  back  into  the 
smoking-car  and  have  a  pipe  of "  T.  &  B." 
"  I'll  bid  you  good  afternoon,  gentlemen,"  he 
said,  bowing  with  a  certain  deference ;  for 
Dick  Townley,  in  spite  of  the  unconventionality 
and  freedom  of  his  ways,  had  no  thought  of 
being  forward  or  forgetting  his  position. 

"Good  afternoon,"  echoed  the  two  friends, 
pleasantly. 

"  Stay  a  minute,"  said  the  stout  gentleman, 
holding  out  his  cigar-case.  "  Try  one  of  these 
cigars— you'll  find  them  good,  I  think." 


Gbe  private  (Bets  JSven.          153 

"  Thanks  very  much,"  said  Dick,  choosing 
one.  "  There  are  so  many  cabbage-leaves 
floating  about  in  this  country  that  it  is  a  treat  to 
run  across  a  decent  cigar  now  and  again — so 
very  good  of  you." 

"  Not  at  all — delighted,  I'm  sure,"  rejoined 
the  stout  gentleman  ;  and  in  another  instant  the 
youth  had  left  the  car. 

" '  You  bet,'  as  they  say  across  the  lines," 
soliloquized  Dick,  with  the  sublime  magnanim- 
ity and  loftiness  of  youth, "  that  these  two  chaps 
are  '  big  mucky-mucks '  in  their  own  little 
tintop  place,  wherever  that  may  be." 

He  was  right.  But  then  a  tract  of  country 
that  in  extent  is  about  the  size  of  Europe,  is 
not  exactly  a  little  "  tintop  place." 

The  private  made  his  way  to  the  smoking- 
car,  where  he  found  the  sergeant  and  the  little 
scout.  The  latter,  on  catching  sight  of  him, 
sprang  to  his  feet  and  was  about  to  say  some- 
thing, when  the  sergeant  checked  him  by  a  sud- 
den gesture. 

"  Well,  Dick,  had  a  good  time  ?  "  queried  the 
sergeant,  in  a  dry  and  rather  significant  tone  of 
voice  that  unaccountably  nettled  and  mystified 
the  private. 

"  So-so,  thanks,"  was,  however,  the  imper- 
turbable reply.  "  But,  why  do  you  ask  ?  By 
the  way,  why  didn't  you  come  into  the  '  diner ' 
that  time,  instead  of  only  shoving  your  head 
inside  the  door  and  going  out  again  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  merely  didn't  want  to  intrude.  But 
what  were  you  gassing  to  them  about  ?  Fav- 
oring them  with  one  of  your  little  philosophical 
dissertations  on  things  in  general.  Eh  ?  " 

Somehow  Dick  Townley  did  not  like  the 
tone  his  superior  adopted.  It  nettled  him 
strangely  ;  for  it  argued  there  was  a  screw  loose 
somewhere,  and  that  the  sergeant  was  cross- 
examining  him  on  purpose  to  bring  confusion 


ISA  Sinners  Swatn. 

upon  him.  But  the  worldly-wise  youth  was 
not  the  one  to  be  taken  at  a  disadvantage.  If 
there  was  anything  wrong,  that  was  his  affair. 
Neither  the  sergeant  nor  the  scout  was  going  to 
make  him  the  butt  of  any  joke.  He  shaped 
his  answer  accordingly. 

"Well,"  said  he,  sitting  down,  putting  his 
feet  on  the  seat  opposite,  and  deliberately  light- 
ing his  cigar,  "you  see,  Harry,  these  two  chaps 
were  somewhat  dicky  about  their  Latin.  One 
of  them— the  fat  one— appealed  to  me  as  to 
whether  his  way  was  not  the  right  one  and  his 
companion's  the  wrong,  in  pronouncing  a  cer- 
tain word " 

"And  you ?  " 

"Told  him  flatly  he  was  wrong,  to  be 
sure." 

"  Oh,  you  did,  did  you  ?  Well,  Dick,  you've 
enough  policy  to  qualify  you  for  the  post  of 
Prime  Minister  one  of  these  fine  days.  You're 
sure  to  get  a  commission  in  the  force,  anyhow. 
And  what  did  you  say  to  the  man  in  the 
knicker-breeches  ?  "  asked  the  sergeant  with  an 
irritating  vein  of  sarcasm  in  his  voice. 

"  Oh,  I  told  him  he  was  wrong  also  ! "  was 
the  watchful  reply.  "  Do  you  think,  Harry,  I 
am  one  of  those  amiable  nonentities  that  go 
about  agreeing  with  every  one,  when  I  happen 
to  know  that  I  am  right  when  others  are 
wrong?  I  don't  suppose  they  would  have 
admired  me  any  the  more  for  having  agreed 
with  them.  They  seemed  pretty  decent, 
chummy  sort  of  fellows.  But,  by  the  way, 
Harry,  the  one  with  the  knicker-breeches 
seemed  to  know  you.  Do  you  know  who  they 
are  ?  " 

"  Slightly,"  was  the  reply,  and  with  a  furtive 
look  at  his  comrade's  face.  "  I've  had  the 
honor  of  turning  out  the  guard  at  Regina,  and 
presenting  arms  to  them  both  on  several  occa- 


tTbe  private  (Sets  Even.         155 

sions.  The  stout  one  was  the  Lieutenant- 
Governor,  Joseph  Royal,  of  the  North- West 
Territories,  and  the  other  is  one  of  your  supe- 
rior officers,  Lieutenant-Colonel  Herchmer, 
Assistant  Commissioner  of  the  North-West 
Mounted  Police  Force.  .  .  .  Oh,  I  can  assure 
you,  my  boy,  you  were  in  quite  respectable 
company,!"  ' 

There  was  a  dead  pause  for  a  second.  Harry 
Yorke  looked  pityingly  at  his  comrade's  face,  as 
if  he  expected  to  see  that  look  of  self-assurance 
change  to  one  of  confusion  and  mortification. 
The  little  scout's  large,  bulging  black  eyes  fairly 
danced  in  his  head,  as  he  prepared  to  enjoy  the 
expected  denouement.  But  he  was  to  suffer 
disappointment.  Dick  Townley  observed  these 
signs  as  he  blew  a  larger  wreath  of  smoke  than 
usual  out  of  his  mouth,  and  nipped,  as  it  were, 
in  the  bud  an  impulse  to  utter  a  rather  pro- 
nounced ejaculation.  He  never  even  once 
shifted  in  his  seat,  but  continued  the  conversa- 
tion as  if  he  had  heard  nothing  extraordinary. 

"  Indeed,"  said  he  calmly,  and  with  a  look  of 
candor  and  simplicity.  "  Now  I  can  under- 
stand what  o'clock  it  is ;  for  I  could  not  quite 
make  out  what  Herchmer  was  driving  at  when 
he  said,  in  the  course  of  our  rather  chatty  con- 
versation, that  he  knew  my  uncle,  the  general, 
in  England,  and  he  hoped  that  when  in  Regina 
I'd  take  a  walk  over  to  his  diggings  now  and 
again  when  he'd  endeavor  to  show  me  some 
attention.  Of  course,  I  didn't  understand  that 
he  was  one  of  my  officers — the  sly  beggar  not 
to  refer  to  the  fact.  But,  perhaps,  he  felt  some 
little  delicacy  upon  that  point — some  scruples 
regarding  my  feelings,  or  something  of  that 
sort.  There's  nothing  like  keeping  in  with  the 
powers  that  be,  Harry,  you  know,  and  you  bet 
I'll  do  it." 

"  The  devil ! "  muttered  the  amazed,  and  now 
thoroughly  disgusted,  Harry. 


156  Sinners  ftwain. 

As  for  Pierre,  the  scout,  his  eyes  fairly 
started  out  of  his  head  ;  his  under  jaw  dropped, 
and  his  gaze  became  fixed.  His  "  dear  Rich- 
ard," as  he  frequently  called  the  private,  some- 
times indeed  astonished  him,  but  had  never 
done  so  as  much  as  on  this  occasion. 

"  And  Joe  Royal,  he's  not  a  bad  sort  of  fel- 
low either,"  continued  Dick,  as  if  soliloquizing. 
"  He  wanted  me  to  stay  in  the  car  and  finish 
another  bottle  with  them.  But  as  I  had  already 
sampled  their  wine  and  cigars  pretty  freely,  I 
said  I'd  join  them  later  on  in  the  day,  and 
honor  them  with  my  presence.  (Doesn't  do, 
you  know,  to  make  one's  self  too  cheap.) 
Royal  said,  when  I  asked  him  where  he  was 
bound  for,  that  he  was  going  to  Regina,  like 
myself."  At  this  piece  of  information  the  ser- 
geant groaned,  and  the  private,  asking  him 
sharply  what  the  matter  was  with  him,  but 
receiving  no  response,  proceeded  again,  "  He 
also  expressed  his  regret  that  he  had  not  his 
card-case  with  him.  However,  I  gave  him  my 
card,  whereupon  he  expressed  the  hope  that  I 
would  be  able  to  come  over  to  dinner  at  his 
place  one  of  these  days.  He  said  there  were 
some  people  in  the  neighborhood  whom  he 
thought  I'd  like  to  meet." 

"  Oh  !  of  course,"  broke  in  the  sergeant,  with 
a  voice  so  freezingly  polite  that  it  seemed  to 
afford  the  precocious  youth  considerable  amuse- 
ment, "  of  course,  he  meant  the  Commissioner, 
the  Assistant,  Commissioner,  perhaps  the 
Governor-General,  Hayter  Reed,  the  Indian 
Commissioner,  Nicholas  Flood  Davin,  M.  P., 
Sir  W.  C.  Van  Home,  and  a  few  others — like 
yourself,  you  know.  Oh,  fire  away,  Dick !  I 
did  not  think  it  were  possible  for  any  human 
being  to  arrive  at  such  a  lofty  pitch  of  intellect- 
ual impenetrability !  Your  utter  lack  of  the 
perceptive  faculty  borders  on  the  sublime ,' 


Gbe  {private  <3ets  £ven.         157 

And  you  didn't  seem  to  think  it  strange  when 
he  did  not  give  you  his  card  ?  Oh,  no,  I  don't 
suppose  you  thought  about  that  at  all !  " 

At  the  bare  thought  of  the  story  the  two 
magnates  would  have  to  relate  concerning  his 
friend,  the  sergeant  grew  hot  and  cold  by  turns. 
He  had  meant  to  overwhelm  the  luckless  private 
with  a  sense  of  shame ;  but  here  was  that 
individual,  to  talk  figuratively,  wallowing  in  it, 
like  a  hog  in  the  mire.  Well,  wonders  would 
never  cease. 

But  Dick  thought  the  sergeant  had  been 
punished  sufficiently,  so  turned  his  attention  to 
the  luckless  scout  to  put  the  finishing  touch,  as 
he  mentally  construed  it,  on  him. 

"  As  for  you,  Pierre,  the  Assistant  Commis- 
sioner asked  what  the  matter  was  with  you — 
that  time  you  were  making  faces  at  me  in  the 
car,  and  went  out  so  hurriedly.  I  am  sorry  if  I 
should  have  done  wrong,  but  I  fear  I  said,  to 
excuse  your  extraordinary  behavior,  that  you 
had  been  indulging  a  little  too  freely — indeed, 
to  tell  the  truth,  I  said  you  had  been  on  a  pro- 
longed spree,  and  were  hardly  responsible  for 
your  actions.  However,  as  I  promised  Herch- 
mer  I'd  look  him  up  again  to-night  in  the 
private  Pullman,  I'll  fix  it  all  right  again  for 
you." 

Poor  Pierre  sat  limp,  the  picture  of  appre- 
hension (he  was  on  his  last  trial),  and  with  the 
cold  sweat  starting  from  him.  He  was  unable 
to  utter  a  word. 

Dick  Townley  rose  with  an  air  of  unruffled 
and  benign  composure,  threw  away  the  stump 
of  his  cigar,  and  went  over  to  the  bookstall  to 
buy  a  book  from  the  news  agent. 

"  I  rather  think  that  fetched  them,"  said  this 
unsophisticated  and  innocent  youth  to  himself. 
"  You  see,  Harry  had  it  all  his  own  way  with 
that  pretty  girl  at  St.  Denis'  ranche — not  an- 


158  Sinners  Gwain. 

other  chap  could  get  an  innings  at  all ;  and, 
besides,  he  thought  to  extinguish  me  altogether 
with  that  wonderful  news  of  his  a  minute  or 
two  ago.  Pierre,  also,  has  been  getting  rather 
cocky  lately,  and  wanted  taking  down  a  peg. 
When  one  goes  in  for  turning  the  tables,  one 
wants  to  take  sweeping  and  active  measures, 
or  else  something  will  be  recoiling  and  dam- 
aging one.  .  .  .  Great  Scott  !  but  now  I  come  to 
think  of  it,  I  did  tell  the  Assistant  Commis- 
sioner when  he  asked  me  what  I  thought  of  the 
force '  that  it  wouldn't  be  a  bad  sort  of  outfit  to 
be  in  if  they  could  only  manage  to  hang  one  or 
two  of  the  officers,  and  put  some  brains  into 
one  or  two  of  the  others.'  Well — I  am  a 
bright  sort  of  bird  after  all  ! " 

As  he  reseated  himself  his  face  wore  a 
somewhat  thoughtful  and  preoccupied  air.  Ab- 
stractedly he  whistled  the  Dead  March  in  Saul 
in  a  minor  key. 

After  all,  Dick's  triumph  was  not  unlike  all 
other  earthly  ones — it  was  not  unmixed. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

A  UNIQUE  ORDERLY-ROOM  SCENE. 

THE  headquarters  of  the  North-West 
Mounted  Police  Force  at  Regina  stand  on  a 
site  as  drearily  featureless  and  wretched  for 
the  herding  together  of  human  beings  as  ever 
the  most  interested  or  disinterested  of  mortals 
fixed  upon.  No  rolling  prairie  here  to  unfold 
to  the  traveler  every  few  miles  some  varying 
scene  suggestive  of  change,  and  restful  to  the 
eye  and  the  senses.  Nothing  but  a  dead  level — 
a  seemingly  interminable  plain  as  far  as  the  eye 
can  reach.  A  prairie  without  a  tree,  a  stick, 
a  stone,  or  a  hillock  higher  than  an  ant-hill, 
to  break  the  appalling  reiteration  and  madden- 
ing monotony  of  the  weary  landscape.  In  win- 
ter a  snow-clad,  wind-swept,  blizzard-haunted 
wilderness.  In  spring  and  summer,  when 
it  rains,  a  quagmire  of  the  most  oleaginous  and 
tenacious  mud  that  ever  stuck  to  boots  worn 
by  human  beings.  But  this  mud  grows  ex- 
cellent wheat ;  and  people,  as  a  rule,  do  not 
emigrate  merely  in  search  of  the  picturesque. 

"  By  what  strange  paths  and  crooked  ways  " 
the  town  of  Regina,  and  the  North-West 
Mounted  Police  barracks  came  to  be  placed 
where  they  are,  is  one  of  those  mysteries  left  to 
puzzle  the  student  of  history  in  the  time  to 
come.  All  honor,  however,  to  the  energetic 
inhabitants  of  Regina — to  those  who  have  ad- 
ministered its  affairs,  and  its  able  Press,  that 
they  have  made  their  city  what  it  now  is.  You, 
in  particular,  Nicholas  Flood  Davin,  and 
Mowat,  have  been  men  amongst  thousands. 


160  Sinners  tfwafn. 

But  it  is  the  headquarters  of  the  North- West 
Mounted  Police  Force  and  not  the  town  of 
Regina  that  we  have  to  do  with.  The  barracks 
are  situated  some  two  miles  west  of  the  town, 
and  constitute  in  themselves  a  goodly  village, 
with  their  great  octagon-shaped  water-tank, 
like  a  tower  in  the  centre,  flag-staff,  handsome 
riding-school,  large  stables,  and  other  buildings. 
They  stand  on  the  banks  of  the  Wascana  Creek 
— the  favorite  haunt  and  breeding-place  of  the 
festive  mosquito  in  the  spring — and  upon  the 
whole  are  not  a  particularly  inspiriting  sight.  If 
rumor  speaks  truly — and  rumor  must  be 
taken  with  the  proverbial  pinch  of  salt — the 
enterprising  individual  who  sold  this  site  to  the 
police  force  for  so  much  cash,  and,  some  say, 
the  promise  of  a  commission  in  the  force,  had 
the  best  of  the  bargain. 

Entering  the  barracks  by  the  principal  gate- 
way one  passes  the  great  flag-staff  on  the  right, 
and  on  the  left  the  long,  low  wooden  guard- 
room where  Louis  Kiel,  Gaudier,  Racette,  and 
other  enemies  to  the  law  and  their  own  freedom 
of  action,  enjoyed  for  a  period  the  enforced 
hospitality  of  the  provost-sergeant,  and  at  last 
one  fine  morning  walked  out  of  the  window  at 
the  gable  end  of  the  building  to  pay  the  penalty 
of  their  misdeeds.  The  rope  that  hanged  the 
famous  rebel  Riel  is  one  of  the  longest  ropes  on 
record ;  for  Jack  Henderson,  the  worthy  Scot 
from  the  island  of  Bute,  who  hanged  him,  is  ac- 
credited with  having  sold  at  least  several  miles 
of  that  same  rope.  After  all,  Jack  Henderson 
only  hanged  the  man,  who,  on  one  occasion, 
came  very  near  to  hanging  him.  It  was  only 
right  that  Jack  should  be  allowed  to  use  a  long 
rope. 

In  front  of  the  guard-room,  pacing  up  and 
down  on  the  side-walk,  between  huge  banks  of 
snow,  is  the  sentry,  minus  his  carbine  ;  for  it  is 


B  TUntque  ©r£>erlB*1Room  Scene.    161 

thirty  below  zero,  and  cold  steel  is  a  dangerous 
thing  to  handle  in  such  a  low  temperature.  He 
resembles  nothing  so  much  as  a  huge  bear, 
with  his  great  shaggy  buffalo  coat,  his  capa- 
cious collar  up  over  his  ears,  fur  cap,  and  long 
brown  stockings  folded  below  the  knee.  Of 
course  in  such  weather  he  wears  no  long  top 
boots,  but  moccasins.  On  the  west  side  of  the 
square  are  two  large  blocks  of  two-storied  bar- 
rack-rooms for  the  men.  In  front  of  No.  i  pas- 
sage the  sick  parade  has  fallen  in,  and  the 
orderly  corporal  is  standing  by,  ready  to  march 
off  the  little  row  of  unfortunates  to  the  doctor 
the  minute  the  bugle  is  sounded.  But  to  the 
credit  of  the  medical  staff  of  the  police  force  be 
it  said,  they  are  capable  of  performing  their  du- 
ties with  marked  ability  and  humanity. 

And  now,  in  spite  of  the  inclemency  of  the 
weather,  the  side-walks  of  the  square  are 
thronged  with  men,  hurrying  backwards  and 
forwards  as  if  their  lives  depended  on  it.  There 
are  two  or  three  hundred  souls  in  the  barracks, 
and  what  with  parades  of  one  kind  and 
another :  rides,  drills,  fatigues,  &c.,  they  have  a 
busy  time  of  it.  Regina,  generally  speaking,  is 
the  bete  noir  of  the  Mounted  Policemen.  It  is 
the  training  school  he  has  to  pass  through  be- 
fore being  sent  to  one  of  the  far  and  many  out- 
posts scattered  throughout  the  Territories. 

A  quarter  to  eleven  now,  and  there  is  another 
little  group  of  men  opposite  "  No.  i  "  passage 
ready  to  fall  in  before  the  orderly  room  bugle-* 
call  sounds.  This  is,  generally  speaking,  the 
parade  of  the  day ;  the  one  round  which  most 
interest  centres.  For  it  consists  of  delinquents, 
and  their  individual  demeanors,  under  trying 
and  peculiar  circumstances,  present  interesting 
studies  to  the  student  of  character  or  psychol- 
ogy. How  quickly  one  can  spot  the  raw  re- 
cruit, who  with  the  outwardly  unconcerned  face 


162  Sinners  Gwatn. 

and  hectic  laugh,  but  with  that  peculiarly  anx- 
ious and  concentrated  look  in  his  eye  betraying 
him,  is  about  to  go  up  before  his  commanding 
officer  for  the  first  time,  to  be  charged  with  the 
terrible  crime  "  in  that  he  did  allow  a  horse  to 
break  away  from  him  when  leading  it  to  water  " 
on  the  previous  day,  or  something  of  a  like 
treasonable  nature.  Moreover,  as  there  is  no 
fixed  scale  of  punishment  in  this  force,  a  man 
who  happens  to  be  disliked  by  a  certain  officer 
may  find  himself  heavily  fined,  or  even  impris- 
oned, when  another  man  goes  scot  free  for  a 
more  serious  offense.  A  certain  able  and  con- 
scientions  Member  of  Parliament,  however,  a 
year  or  two  ago,  taught  certain  autocratic  po- 
lice officials  that  there  was  a  limit  to  despotism 
in  Her  Majesty's  service. 

It  needs  no  one  to  point  out  the  old  offender 
— there  he  is,  cool  as  a  cucumber,  and  (with  a 
hardihood  that  positively  fills  the  young  recruit 
aforesaid  with  mingled  consternation  and  awe) 
chaffing  the  orderly  corporal — not  yet  confirmed 
— most  unmercifully.  The  corporal  who,  upon 
principle,  promptly  suppresses  any  liberties 
taken  by  newcomers  in  the  force,  stands  some- 
what in  dread  of  this  great  six-foot-three  giant, 
who  is  a  carpenter  to  trade,  and  is  known  as 
"  Tom."  Moreover,  the  giant  is  an  old  hand 
and  an  Irishman  to  boot.  At  every  fresh  sally 
— at  the  corporal's  expense — the  little  crowd  in 
vain  endeavors  to  suppress  the  laugh  that  will 
break  out.  The  corporal  turns  red,  and  tries  to 
assert  his  dignity ;  but  it  is  of  no  use :  Tom's 
wit  is  too  subtle :  so  obviously  free  from  any 
personal  animus  towards  the  non-com,  and  so 
good-natured  withal,  that  reprisal  is  next  to  im- 
possible. Suddenly  Harry  Yorke,  the  sergeant, 
joins  the  little  group,  and  comes  to  the  rescue 
of  the  unhappy  corporal. 

"  Shure,  now  thin  ye  bhlaghart,"  he  says  to 


B  THnique  ©rOetlB*1Room  Scene.    163 

Tom,  imitating  the  brogue  with  a  surprising 
exactitude,  "  an'  is  it  juist  when  ye  will  be 
goin'  to  git  another  tin-dhollar  foine  up  yere 
shleeve  that  ye  will  be  phlaying  the  goat  loike 
this  ?  But  what  are  you  on  the  peg  this  time 
for,  Tom — another  drunk  ?  " 

"  Dhivil  a  bhit,  sarjint,  dhear,"  answered  the 
Irishman,  with  an  aggrieved  look  on  his  face, 
so  well  simulated  indeed  that  one  or  two  re- 
cruits who  stood  looking  on,  and  had  not  suffi- 
cient experience  of  Tom,  felt  sorry  for  him. 
"Another  dhrunk,  indade!  And  shure  if  it 
wir  another  dhrunk  it  wud  not  be  moindin'  the 
thin-dhollars  up  my  shleeve  I'm  thinkin'  I'll  git; 
but  as  it  is  the  oidentical  same  dhrunk  I  wis 
foined  last  week  for,  it's  phlaying  it  low  on  the 
carpentirs  shop  I'm  thinkin'.  Oh  wirra,  wirra ! 
And  what  will  my  poor  ould  mother  say  if  she 
hears  of  this,  at  all,  at  all. " 

At  this  point  Tom  looked  such  a  picture  of 
misery  that  one  of  the  very  young  recruits 
stammered  out  a  few  broken  words  of  sym- 
pathy. Then  Tom's  eyes  fairly  danced  in  his 
head;  but  he  thanked  the  youthful  constable 
politely,  with  a  look  of  preternatural  gravity  on 
his  face  that  somewhat  mystified  the  others. 
He  turned  to  the  sergeant  and  continued — 

"  An'  sarjint,  darlin',  what  will  they  be  goin' 
to  hang  ye  for  ?  an'  bad  luck  to  thim  by  the 
same  token  as  does  it  sez  oi." 

"  For  allowing  a  young  woman  to  leave  a 
house  in  which  I  was,  during  the  night,  Tom," 
was  the  somewhat  unwise  and  unwilling  reply 
of  Harry  Yorke. 

At  this  Tom  opened  his  eyes  and  stared  at 
the  sergeant  in  a  manner  that  was  meant  to 
express  astonishment,  disapprobation,  and  a 
sort  of  pitying  disparagement  all  in  one. 

"  Ochone,  ochone,  sarjint,  dhear,  but  it  will 
be  sarvin'  ye  right  if  they  take  the  sthripes  off 


164  Sinners  ftwafn. 

yere  coat  for  that  same,  shure  ;  an'  what  would 
it  be  ye  wir  lettin'  the  poor  crither  go  for — an' 
in  the  noight  ?  An'  if  it  had  been  mysilf,  now, 
it's  dhivil  a  fut  I'd  have  let  her  go — leastways, 
ahlone.  It's  mysilf  would  have  been  comfort- 
ing an*  kapin'  the  puirty  mavourneen  compiny 
shure.  Shame  on  ye  for  that  same,  sarjint ! 
If  Larry's  got  iny  sinse  av  gallantry  himsilf, 
he'll  sock  it  t'  ye  an'  no  mistake,  an'  hair  on 
'im  for  that  same  sez  oi." 

And  amid  the  easy  laughter  of  old  offenders, 
and  the  distressingly  artificial  laughter  of  the 
new,  the  order  was  given  to  "  fall  in."  At  the 
same  moment  two  or  three  men  rushed  from 
the  passage,  and  fell  in  with  the  others,  Dick 
Townley  being  one  of  them.  The  men  were 
told  off  by  sections  from  the  left.  The  order 
was  given,  "  Half  sections  left— quick  march  ; " 
and,  as  one  man,  the  little  band  was  marched 
half  round  the  square  by  the  side-walk  to  the 
adjutant's  room,  where  the  Dispenser  of  Justice 
sat  in  state  surrounded  by  the  other  officers  in 
the  post. 

To  avert  the  by  no  means  unlikely  contin- 
gency of  being  frozen,  they  were  marched  into 
a  little  side-room,  there  to  await  their  turns  for 
appearing. 

Then  the  sergeant-major  gave  the  order, 
"  Sergeant  Yorke,  and  evidence— t'  shun,  right 
turn,  quick  march,"  and  into  the  presence  of 
the  dispenser  of  justice,  Harry  Yorke,  Dick 
Townley,  and  Pierre  the  scout  were  ushered. 
"  Mark  time  in  front — give  me  your  cap,  Ser- 
geant Yorke.  Halt,  right  turn,"  and  the  be- 
ginning or  the  end  of  the  play  had  begun. 

But  what  need  to  detail  the  phraseology  of 
the  long-winded  charge  that  was  preferred 
against  Sergeant  Yorke,  or  the  scene  that 
followed.  There  was  Inspector  Bounder,  his 
round  face  glowing  with  zeal  and  virtuous 


a  "dnfciue  ©r&erls*1Room  Qccne.    165 

indignation.  As  first  \\itness  on  the  evidence, 
he  related  how  Sergeant  Yorke  had  wilfully 
neglected  the  precautions  he,  his  superior 
officer,  had  taken  such  pains  to  charge  him 
with.  And  ho  w  Sergeant  Yorke  must  have  con- 
nived with  that  girl,  Marie  St.  Denis — who  might 
be,  for  all  he  knew,  a  girl  of  light  character, 
but  was  at  least  as  bad  as  her  father,  a  noto- 
rious smuggler,  to  allow  her  to  leave  the  hut 
surreptitously  and  so  cause  the  frustration  of 
the  ends  of  justice. 

At  this  point  the  hands  of  Sergeant  Yorke 
twitched  convulsively  as  he  stood  at  attention  ; 
the  veins  in  his  forehead  stood  out ;  he  drew 
his  breath  in  short,  quick  gasps  that  made  every 
eye  in  the  room  look  at  him  wonderingly. 
There  was  one  grey-haired,  elderly  surgeon  in 
the  little  group  of  officers,  who  coughed  signifi- 
cantly behind  his  hand,  stared  at  the  inspector 
who  was  giving  evidence  with  a  look  of  indig- 
nation and  disgust,  and  then  turned  his  back 
significantly  and  contemptuously  upon  him. 

Brave  old  Dr.  Dodd,  your  memory  is  a  sacred 
thing  with  every  man  who  had  the  honor  of 
coming  in  contact  with  you  in  the  North- West 
Mounted  Police  Force ! 

To  the  credit  of  the  officer  who  was  trying 
the  case  be  it  said,  he  at  this  point  pulled  In- 
spector Bounder  pretty  sharply  up,  telling  him 
to  confine  himself  to  the  charge,  and  be  careful 
regarding  what  aspersions  he  made  respecting 
any  woman. 

Jamie  took  the  snub  easily  enough.  A  man 
without  any  sense  of  h  onor  can  neither  be  in- 
sulted nor  snubbed  :  he  is  conscious  of  the  cap 
fitting — the  shape  of  his  ugly  head  gives  him 
away — and  he  knows  that  the  best  way  of  get- 
ting over  the  difficulty,  is  by  taking  no  notice 
of  it. 

Perhaps,  after  all,  Jamie's  evidence  did  not 


166  Sinners  Gwain. 

do  Sergeant  Yorke  as  much  damage  as  it  might 
have  done.  His  personal  animus  affected  that 
dispassionate  critical  sense  which  is  necessary 
to  work  out  a  logical  and  conclusive  conviction. 
In  his  hatred  of  the  man  before  him,  he  evolved 
from  his  own  gross  and  sluggish  imagination 
utter  fabrications  which  he  had  no  means  of 
proving,  and  left  unnoticed  points  that,  had 
they  been  put  to  the  prisoner  or  the  witnesses, 
might  easily  have  been  construed  into  neglect 
of  duty  or  breaches  of  discipline.  To  say  that 
the  officer  who  was  trying  the  case  realized  this, 
and  felt  heartily  ashamed  of  the  feeble  case 
against  the  accused,  were  putting  it  mildly. 
The  accused  had  no  questions  to  ask  of  this 
witness. 

Then  the  private,  Dick  Townley,  was  exam- 
ined. His  evidence  only  contradicted  that  of 
the  previous  witness. 

As  for  the  little  scout,  in  whose  simplicity 
and  ignorance  of  the  effects  of  heckling  had  lain 
the  chief  hope  of  Jamie,  he  showed  himself  at 
least  a  firm  believer  in  one  most  excellent  pre- 
cept— "  silence  is  golden."  Moreover,  he 
seemed  to  have  become  slow  of  comprehension 
to  a  degree  ;  and  what  knowledge  of  the  Queen's 
English  he  had  possessed  at  one  time,  seemed 
to  have  entirely  deserted  him.  Outwardly  he 
resembled  the  heathen  Chinee,  his  smile  being 
"  child-like  and  bland,"  and  when  evidently  un- 
able to  understand  some  rather  pointed  question 
that  was  put  to  him  by  the  Dispenser  of  Justice, 
there  was  a  puzzled  and  meek  pensiveness  upon 
his  face  that  would  have  done  credit  to  one  of  the 
martyrs  of  the  Inquisition.  When  cautioned 
regarding  this  line  of  conduct  in  a  way  that 
would  hardly  have  been  permitted  in  any  other 
orderly-room  save  in  the  North- West  Mounted 
Police  Force  (where  one  man  relegates  to  him- 
self powers  that  a  court-martial  of  experienced 


21  Unique  ©rDerls=1Room  Scene.    167 

British  officers  in  other  parts  of  the  Empire 
would  hesitate  to  exercise),  he  betrayed  a  most 
deplorable  and  imperfect  condition  of  memory. 
He  could  recollect  nothing.  To  the  student  of 
psychology,  or  the  investigator  of  mental  dis- 
eases, Pierre  would  have  proved  a  most  inter- 
esting study.  But  this  condition  of  mind  is  not 
peculiar  to  those  holding  subordinate  positions 
in  the  force.  Perhaps  on  other  momentous  oc- 
casions it  has  proved  efficacious.  It  is  only  pure 
speculation  to  say  that  probably  some  analo- 
gous circumstance  suggested  itself  to  the 
quick  comprehensive  mind  of  the  stern,  but  not 
altogether  heartless  officer  who  was  trying  the 
case,  for  a  twinkle  shot  into  those  somewhat 
restless,  greyish-blue  eyes  beneath  the  bushy 
eyebrows,  and  in  a  quick,  jerky,  somewhat 
American-like  drawl,  he  ordered  the  scout  to 
stand  aside. 

Then  the  question  was  put  to  the  prisoner, 
"  Well,  Sergeant  Yorke,  what  have  you  got  to 
say  for  yourself  ? " 

It  was  a  rather  remarkable  thing  that  the  of- 
ficer trying  the  case  should  never  look  at  the 
prisoner.  Perhaps  it  was  as  well.  Who  knows 
but  that  beneath  the  almost  harsh  demeanor, 
the  too  strict  and  stern  sense  of  discipline  that 
nearly  always  characterised  his  bearing  towards 
those  whom  he  officially  came  in  contact  with, 
there  was  a  tender  place  in  this  man's  heart, 
the  existence  of  which  he  was  conscious  of, 
and  which  was  always  a  menace  against  the 
proper  carrying  out  of  an  all  too  rigorous  policy 
which  he  erroneously  considered  it  his  duty  to 
pursue.  Doubtless  he  erred  on  the  side  of 
duty;  and  true  to  the  adage  that  "extremes 
meet,"  his  policy  was  productive  of  much  that 
militated  against  a  healthy  moral  tone,  and  that 
sense  of  honor  it  is  essentially  necessary  should 
prevail  in  a  police  force.  But,  regarding  the 


1 68  Sinners  {Twain. 

man  himself,  at  heart  he  was  a  well-meaning 
man  ;  and  to  any  one  who  could  see  beneath  the 
surface  of  things,  who  could  read  aright  the  in- 
tonation of  a  voice  or  the  glance  of  an  eye,  no 
matter  how  harsh  and  severe  they  seemed,  there 
was  much  that  was  good  and  even  likable  in  him. 
He  was  one  of  the  stern  sort.  He  doubtless  was 
sorry  when  he  saw  a  good  man  come  to  grief, 
but  he  never  said  so.  Perhaps  if  a  little  of  the 
suaviter  in  modo  had  come  more  naturally  to 
him,  hewould  have  been  more  popular  than  he 
was.  No  man  living  need  think  that  he  can  rule 
solely  by  the  fort  tier  in  re.  In  the  natural  or- 
der of  things  it  cannot  be :  the  darkest  trage- 
dies of  history  are  written  in  the  blood  of  tyrants. 
In  justice  to  this  man,  however,  be  it  said  that 
in  his  heart  there  was  no  hatred  towards  his  fel- 
low-man ;  it  was  a  pity  he  should  be  so  afraid 
of  that  better  self  which  was  most  assuredly  in 
him.  It  would  not  have  detracted  from  the 
dignity  or  power  of  his  position.  A  beneficial 
and  lasting  influence  would  thus  have  been  ex- 
ercised, instead  of  a  mistaken  and  pernicious 
species  of  terrorism  that  did  a  hundred  times 
more  harm  than  good. 

And  now  there  was  a  significant  silence  in 
that  orderly-room,  and  every  eye  was  turned 
inquiringly  on  the  accused.  With  the  more 
than  lightning-like  rapidity  of  thought,  Harry 
Yorke  had  realized  the  position  in  which  he 
stood.  He  knew  that  as  Inspector  Bounder, 
with  his  usual  shortsightedness,  had  seen  no 
tracks  of  a  woman's  feet  leading  from  the 
house-door,  it  would  be  dangerous  for  him  to 
say  to  the  presiding  officer  that  he  had  not 
looked  for  tracks;  he — Sergeant  Yorke — had 
therefore  only  to  say  that  the  girl  must  have 
escaped  from  her  bedroom  window  or  by  some 
back  door,  and  he  could  clear  himself  of  the 
responsibility  ;  for  the  officer's  commands  had 


a  "dnique  <S>r&erlB*Koom  Scene,    169 

been  given,  specifically  enough,  to  watch  the 
kitchen  door  from  the  room  in  which  they  lay, 
but  given  only  when  the  girl  had  made  good  her 
escape.  But  to  Sergeant  Yorke  there  was  only 
one  thing  that  was  evident,  and  that  was,  what- 
ever construction  he  might  put  upon  his  con- 
duct, he  could  never  be  otherwise  than  guilty  in 
his  own  eyes.  To  make  a  clean  breast  of  the 
whole  affair  would  be  to  commit  a  palpable 
absurdity  that  the  law  did  not  demand,  that  no 
one  would  thank  him  for,  and  that  would  not 
only  incriminate  Marie  St.  Denis,  but  would 
not  mitigate  his  offence.  Such  a  course  was 
not  to  be  thought  of.  Again,  if  by  using  that 
prerogative  which  wisely  enough  is  permitted 
the  British  soldier,  of  making  the  best  defence 
he  can  for  himself,  he  utterly  upset  the  in- 
spector's charge — which,  being  wrong  to  begin 
with,  could  have  easily  been  accomplished — 
and  he  proved  that  there  was  in  reality  no 
ground  for  a  conviction  against  him,  would  it 
be  conducive  to  his  self-respect  ?  The  very 
idea  of  denying  the  fact  of  having  aided  the 
flight  of  Marie  St.  Denis  seemed  in  itself  the 
most  objectionable  treason.  It  was  like  deny- 
ing her — she  who,  in  spite  of  all  that  had  taken 
place,  he  felt  was  well  worthy  of  his  respect, 
and  who,  indeed  at  all  times,  was  occupying  a 
very  great  share  in  his  thoughts.  Deny  her, 
indeed  ! — and  his  denial  of  this  charge  would 
be  akin  to  it — he  felt  it  would  better  become 
him  to  draw  attention  to  the  base  insinuation 
of  the  commissioned  cad,  who  had,  to  further 
his  own  selfish  ends,  aspersed  the  fair  name  of 
a  pure-minded  girl.  Deny  the  charge,  indeed  ! 
and  God-given  thought  suggested  to  him  that 
old-world  scene,  where  in  the  court  of  the  High 
Priest's  palace  a  fond  but  faint-hearted  fol- 
lower stood  warming  himself  in  the  chill  dawn 
by  a  fire  of  coals,  but  whose  love,  alas !  was 


i;o  Sinners  Cwafn. 

not  proof  against  that  significant  soul-searching 
question,  "  Did  I  not  see  thee  in  the  garden 
with  him  ?  "  For  the  answer  came  back  with 
an  oath,  "  I  know  not  the  man !  "  as  he  denied 
the  master.  What  more  simple  or  comprehen- 
sive in  this  world's  history  than  such  a  lesson  ? 
How  could  he  again  look  that  girl  in  the  face, 
knowing  that  he  had  lied  to  save  three  paltry 
stripes  ?  There  was  sin  enough  against  him  as  it 
was.  Now  that  a  nobler  ideal  had  come  into 
his  life — the  thought  of  that  sacrifice  of  a  girl's 
pride  (what  man  can  measure  it?)  to  save  an 
erring  father,  be  it  right  or  wrong  in  its  object 
— made  him  feel  that  it  would  be  dishonorable 
to  her,  and  in  him,  to  deny  the  charge  now. 
The  knowledge  that  he  would  voluntarily  quit 
that  calling  he  had  chosen  in  a  few  weeks, 
because  he  felt  himself  no  longer  worthy  of  it, 
was  not  sufficient  to  bias  his  judgment.  In 
a  second  his  resolve  was  taken.  He  would 
apply  and  profit  by  the  old-world  story,  and  no 
ironical  cock  would  bear  witness  to  his  denial. 
In  another  second  he  said — 

"  I  have  nothing  to  say  in  my  defence ;  but  i 
perhaps  Inspector  Bounder  would  like  an 
opportunity  of  explaining  what  he  meant  by 
referring  to  Miss  St.  Denis  as  he  did." 

Had  he  given  voice  to  some  treasonable 
utterance  he  could  not  have  surprised  the  little 
group  of  officers  standing  round  their  chief 
more  than  he  did.  As  for  the  latter,  man  of 
action  and  quick-witted  as  he  was,  he  was 
momentarily  taken  aback.  The  sergeant- 
major,  who  stood  behind  the  prisoner,  breathed 
quickly.  He  did  not  know  whether  it  was  his 
duty  to  silence  this  outspoken  offender  or  not. 
But  the  chief  looked  up  quickly,  and  to  his 
credit  said — 

"  You  have  no  right  to  demand  an  explana- 
tion from  Inspector  Bounder — that  is  my  busi- 
ness, and  you  can  rest  assured  I  shall  do  so." 


H  "dnique  ©r&erlgslRoom  Scene*   171 

Then  he  hesitated  a  moment,  with  pen  in 
hand,  ere  he  wrote  on  the  back  of  the  defaulter 
sheet.  This  done  he  said,  still  in  that  quick, 
jerky  way — 

"You  have  not  a  clean  defaulter  sheet"  (it 
took  a  very  clever  man  or  a  nonentity  to  keep 
a  clean  sheet  in  the  police  force),  "but  this  is 
the  first  charge  reflecting  on  your  honor  that 
has  been  brought  against  you.  Such  a  charge 
wants  making  an  example  of.  One  month's 
pay  "  (enough  to  bury  three  policemen),  "  and 
reduced  to  the  rank  and  pay  of  a  constable." 

"  Left  turn,  quick  march,"  rang  out  the  sten- 
torian voice  of  the  sergeant-major ;  and  in 
another  minute  Private  Yorke  and  evidence 
stood  outside. 

"  I've  a  knife  in  my  pocket,  sergeant-major," 
said  Private  Yorke  as  he  held  up  his  right  sleeve 
to  that  officer. 

In  another  minute  the  three  golden  bars  and 
the  crown  were  being  ripped  off  his  serge. 
"I'm  very  sorry  for  you,  Yorke,  old  man," 
whispered  the  sergeant-major.  "  Come  and 
see  me  when  orderly-room  is  over." 

He  was  a  good-hearted  fellow  the  sergeant- 
major  and  had  "  been  there  "  himself  in  his 
time. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

SOME  LIVES  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

"  HARRY,  old  man,"  said  Dick  Townley,  as 
he  caught  his  comrade  by  the  arm,  and  walked 
along  the  sidewalk  with  him,  "  it's  no  use  tell- 
ing you  how  sorry  I  am  for  you;  you  must 
know  all  that.  You'll  have  your  stripes  back 
again  before  long,  depend  on  it.  In  the  mean- 
time I'll  give  you  a  hand  to  shift  your  things 
from  your  old  quarters.  You  must  come  into 
No.  9  room ;  there's  a  place  for  a  set  of  trestles 
and  boards  alongside  mine.  There's  no  cor- 
poral in  the  room.  You  will  be  in  charge  any- 
how, and  won't  have  to  do  room-orderly." 

"  Thanks,  Dick,"  said  Private  Yorke,  trying 
to  look  cheerfully  upon  the  prospect  before  him, 
and  not  quite  succeeding.  "  Don't  think  for  a 
moment  I'm  going  to  break  my  heart,  lad.  I 
got  these  stripes  " — he  carried  them  in  his  hand 
now — "  for  my  share  in  catching  Blueblanket's 
son,  and  it  does  seem  a  little  hard  to  have  to 
chuck  them  up  like  this.  But  I've  only  a 
month  or  so  to  put  in,  and  then  I'm  a  free  nig- 
ger. But,  I  guess,  I'll  pan  out  somehow. 
There's  the  C.  P.  R.,  the  Hudson  Bay  Com- 

?any,  or  perhaps  I  may  go  on  my  own  hook, 
've  a  few  thousand    dollars,  thank  goodness. 
The  first  move  will  want  the  most  considera- 
tion." 

Then,  somehow,  he  thought  of  Marie  St. 
Denis.  After  all,  he  had  been  loyal  to  himself 
and  to  her.  If  he  had  erred  he  was  now  volunta- 
rily paying  the  penalty  of  his  error.  He  had  not 
surrendered  his  self-respect  by  equivocating  and 


Some  lives  from  tbe  IRanfcs.      173 

escaping  that  penalty.  He  had  been  true  to 
her  in  his  heart ;  he  somehow  felt  as  if  he  had 
suffered  for  her.  Already  there  seemed  a  sub- 
tle bond  of  union  between  them.  His  spirits 
rose.  He  felt  as  if  somehow  Marie  St.  Denis 
were  nearer  to  him — at  least,  he  had  taken  one 
step  towards  her.  After  all,  if  he  had  lost  the 
stripes  he  felt  something  else  within  him — some- 
thing that  made  him  feel  as  if  he  had  a  better 
title  to  the  name  of  a  man  than  all  the  stripes 
and  gold  lace  in  the  police  force  in  themselves 
could  possibly  have  given  him.  "Broke!"  It 
was  an  ugly  word,  truly,  but  he  could  afford  to 
smile  at  it  now. 

And  then  he  looked  down  at  the  bare  place 
on  his  coat-sleeve  where  the  stripes  had  been ; 
his  eye  had  instinctively  missed  them.  "  Damn 
the  stripes  and  those  who  took  them  from 
me  ! "  he  broke  out.  He  could  hardly  be  ex- 
pected to  take  to  his  new  position  all  at  once. 

Perhaps  what  affected  him  more  than  any- 
thing was  the  spontaneous,  delicate,  and  heart- 
felt expressions  of  sympathy  when  he  reached 
the  men's  quarters  from  non-coms,  and  privates 
alike.  They  pressed  forward  one  after  another, 
and  shook  him  warmly  by  the  hand.  "  Never 
mind,  Yorke,"  said  one,  "you're  too  good  a 
man  to  vegetate  as  a  sergeant.  If  you  take  the 
stripes  again — and  they'll  be  running  after  you 
again  to  take  them  in  a  few  weeks — we'll  cut  you 
dead."  "  Yorkey,"  said  another,  "it  may  be 
questionable  taste  in  expressing  myself  as  I  do, 
but  we,  one  and  all,  are  proud  and  glad  to  have 
you  amongst  us  again."  A  drill  instructor,  a 
fair-haired,  smart,  soldierly-looking  man,  act- 
ually had  told  the  little  squad  of  men  he  was 
drilling  in  an  adjoining  room  to  "  stand  easy  " 
and  made  his  way  over  to  Harry.  "  Old- 
hand  "  that  he  was,  he  could  see  almost  with- 
out appearing  to  look  that  the  three  stripes  and 


174  Sinners  Swain. 

crown  had  dissappeared  from  his  coat-sleeve. 
There  were  four  stripes  on  his  own  coat.  His 
style  of  administering  comfort  was,  perhaps, 
the  best  of  any.  As  he  pressed  Harry's  hand 
he  said  with  a  pleasant,  careless  smile  on  his 
face,  "  What's  the  odds,  Yorke  !  You  know 
enough  about  this  force  to  take  such  an  ordi- 
nary everyday  occurrence  for  what  it's  worth. 
Was  it  the  Psalmist,  or  some  other  chap  who 
said, '  Man  is  born  unto  troubles  as  the  sparks 
fly  upwards,'  or  something  of  that  sort  ?  If  the 
Psalmist — with  all  due  deference  to  him— had 
been  a  North- West  Mounted  Policeman,  he 
might  have  put  the  case  a  little  more  strongly, 
and  said,  '  There  is  nothing  certain  to  the  un- 
believer save  a  comprehensive  defaulter  sheet, 
and  an  enforced  period  of  entertainment  in 
Trigot's  hotel.'  So  far  as  non-coms,  are  con- 
cerned, not  one  of  us  is  sure  of  his  stripes  for 
twelve  hours." 

"  He  was  right ;  within  the  week  he  was  on 
his  way  up  to  Prince  Albert  minus  his  four 
stripes,  and  taking  his  orders  from  a  French 
Canadian  teamster  who  happened  to  be  his 
senior.  He  proved  the  truth  of  his  words,  any- 
how. Harry  Yorke  had  hardly  taken  a  survey 
of  the  spot,  where  he  contemplated  taking  his 
boards  and  trestles  to,  in  No.  9  barrack-room, 
when  a  prisoner's  escort  entered  the  room  with 
side-arms  on  in  charge  of  Tom  the  Hibernian 
carpenter. 

"  Hilloa,  Tom,  what  did  you  get  ?  "  some 
one  cried,  as  he  observed  the  luckless  one  pro- 
ceed to  bundle  up  his  kit  as  if  preparing  for  a 
removal ! 

"  What  did  I  git  ?  "  was  the  somewhat  rueful 
answer,  "  why,  I  got  it  socked  to  me  shure ! 
Bad  luck  to  Larry,  the  blood-thirsty  ould  coy- 
ote, it's  doin'  a  month  he  should  be  himsilf . 
Shure  now,  wouldn't  I  like  to  be  following  the 


Some  Xfves  from  tbc  IRanfcs.     175 

ould  sinner  round  the  square  with  me  baton, 
an'  him  carrying  round  the  coals  to  the  officers' 
quharters.  Holy  mother  av  Moses  if  I  wouldn't 
make  him  git  a  rustle  on  !  Yis  bhoys,  ould 
Joey's  got  mi  now." 

And  here  Tom  paused  in  the  task  of  rolling 
up  his  bedding,  to  sing  for  the  benefit  of  the 
company  a  popular  ditty  that  had  been  com- 
posed by  a  guard-room  poet,  in  reference  to  the 
relationship  in  which,  generally  speaking,  sooner 
or  later  the  provost-sergeant,  otherwise  head- 
gaoler — known  as  Joey — stood  to  the  young 
tenderfoot  who  had  committed  some  trifling 
error.  The  chorus  of  the  song,  in  which  two 
or  three  of  the  men  joined,  ran  thus  : — 

"  For  old  Joey's  got  him  now, 

And  the  sweat's  on  his  beautiful  brow ; 

Going  round  from  house  to  house, 

Clad  in  a  colored  blouse, 
Old  Joey's  got  him  now." 

It  is  only  justice  to  the  Joey  referred  to,  how- 
ever, to  say  that  his  bark  was  worse  than  his 
bite.  If  his  manner  was  at  times  rather  harsh, 
he  never  allowed  a  poor  civilian  prisoner  to 
leave  his  charge  on  the  expiry  of  his  sentence, 
without  a  heartfelt  "  Get  out  of  this  and  don't 
come  here  again  !  " — and  a  dollar  in  his  pocket. 

It  was  a  unique  scene — one  which  could 
hardly  have  been  witnessed  outside  a  North- 
West  Mounted  Police  barrack-room,  where, 
generally  speaking,  the  men  pull  well  together. 
There  was  an  ex-sergeant — Harry  Yorke — 
assisting  a  prisoner  who  had  just  got,  as  he 
expressed  it,  "  thirty  days  in  the  hotil,"  and 
every  one  present  joining  in  a  serio-comic 
chorus,  with  the  exception  of  the  extremely 
youthful  prisoner's  escort,  who  was  scared 
within  an  inch  of  his  life  by  the  prisoner  he  was 


1 76  Sinners  {Twain. 

in  charge  of,  and  kept  wondering  if  a  plug  of 
tobacco  would  assist  in  conciliating  the  terrible 
Irishman. 

"  Shure  an'  it's  no  use  av  mi  sympathisin'  wid 
you,  Sarjint — I  mane  Corpiril;  oh— damn  what 
I  mane  anyhow,  Sarjint  Yorke.  Oh,  Jerusalem  ! 
— for  I'm  in  a  worse  box  moisilf  than  you. 
But  niver  moind, '  we  shall  meet  on  that  be-auti- 
ful  shore  '  as  my  dear  frind  Pat  Barnes  over  in 
Joey's  says.  An'  I  say,  Sarjint  Yorke, — dhiyil 
take  stroipes  anyway — it's  likely  you'll  be  hevin' 
your  turn  at  escort  in  a  day  or  two  and  there's 
five  dollars  I  want  ye  to  kape  for  me.  Two 
plugs  av  '  T.  an'  B.'  a  wake,  me  bhoy  !  The 
two  assistant  provosts  are  demned  dacent  lads, 
one  an  owd  guardsman  and  another  an  ould 
mossback,  an'  may  be  dipended  on  to  trate  me 
discrately.  My  blessin'  on  ye  bhoys  an  be  good 
to  your  silves." 

And  Tom,  the  carpenter,  with  a  roll  of  bed- 
ding on  his  back  (for  use  in  the  guard-room) 
took  his  departure  from  No.  9  barrack-room, 
and  out  of  this  history. 

That  night  in  "  No.  9  barrack-room  "  there 
was  one  man  at  least  who  lay  awake  long 
after  "  lights-out,"  and  indulged  in  many  long 
and  anxious  thoughts.  Last  night  he  was  lying 
the  sole  occupant  of  the  room  at  the  end  of  the 
passage,  sergeant  in  charge  of  the  four  barrack- 
rooms  that  it  commanded.  To-night—well,  he 
had  been  warned  for  stable-orderly  on  the  mor- 
row, and  that  explained  the  situation.  After 
all,  it  served  him  right :  a  man  of  his  experience 
of  the  world,  and  education,  to  join  a  police 
force,  because  there  were  many  more  "  had- 
beens,"  like  himself  in  it ;  and  where,  to  keep 
up  the  delusion  of  playing  at  soldiers,  they  fined 
and  imprisoned  till  the  red  coat  of  a  British 
dragoon  was  a  mockery  to  a  man.  He  was  in 
a  bitter  and  cynical  mood.  He  began  to  feel 


Some  !4v>e0  from  tbe  IRanfts.     177 

that  passion  and  not  reason  was  swaying  him 
now.  Let  him  only  bethink  himself.  Did  he 
not  deserve  the  punishment  he  had  brought 
upon  himself  ?  Some  voice  within  him  said,  it 
was  for  a  helpless  woman's  sake.  But  in  the 
name  of  all  that  was  reasonable,  what  right 
had  he  to  subvert  the  law,  which  he  represented 
in  his  person,  for  a  matter  of  sentiment,  no  mat- 
ter how  just  and  reasonable  he  might  think  it  ? 
If  he  had  erred  in  a  matter  of  judgment,  he 
ought  to  have  known  that  the  path  of  duty  was 
a  straight  one,  permitting  of  no  turning  either  to 
the  right  or  the  left,  and  he  ought  to  have  fol- 
lowed it.  When  he  came  to  think  of  it,  his 
punishment  was  only  just ;  moreover,  he  him- 
self had  courted  that  same  punishment.  He 
had  no  reason  to  find  fault  with  the  powers  that 
had  tried  him.  They  had  even,  perhaps,  dealt 
leniently  with  him. 

But  was  it  not  an  ill  luck  that  was  forever 
dogging  his  steps  ?  He  sat  up  in  his  bed  now, 
as  if  to  relieve  the  rush  of  blood  that  had  gone 
to  his  fevered  head. 

Luck,  forsooth !  Who  was  he  that  he  should 
talk  of  luck  ?  Let  him  glance  around  where 
stretched  upon  their  palliasses  lay  the  slumber- 
ing forms  of  his  comrades,  and  let  him  just  take 
one  by  one  the  life  histories  — at  least,  so  much 
as  was  known  of  them — of  these  men :  a  fair 
sample  of  some  of  the  pathetic  and  almost  tragic 
histories  that  were  buried  away  in  this  police 
force. 

There,  within  a  couple  of  yards  of  him,  lay 
one  who  was  in  his  day  one  of  the  most  famous 
and  promising  men  in  his  university.  He  had 
rowed  in  the  eight ;  he  had  been  a  Senior 
Wrangler;  he  had  taken  the  highest  honors 
wherever  he  had  essayed  to  conquer  in  the 
paths  of  knowledge  ;  he  had  entered  the  church ; 
a  man  of  great  heart  and  brain  whom  everyone 


178  Sinners  Uwafn. 

was  proud  to  know.  Surely  his  was  a  life  to  be 
envied  and  emulated :  surely  his  life  was  a  suc- 
cess. And  then— what  was  that  awful  thing— 
that  evil  genius,  that  reptile-like  had  followed 
him  up  with  pitiless  malignity— stealing  upon 
him  again  with  redoubled  rigor  after  every 
fresh  repulse,  and  then  striking  with  its  deadly, 
pitiless  fangs  when  it  was  sure  of  its  victim  ? 
Drink!  disgrace — ruin — ay,  something  infinitely 
worse  than  death ;  and  then — another  name — 
another  and  a  new  country ;  the  red  coat  of  the 
dragoon  as  worn  by  a  Mounted  Police  force — 
for  he  could  not  rid  himself  of  that  life  which 
had  become  a  burden  to  him;  he  was  too 
much  of  a  man  to  cut  it  short  with  his  own 
hands.  Then  he  had  turned  over  a  new  leaf, 
and  was  about  to  get  the  promotion  that  his  abil- 
ities had  earned  for  him — but  he  had  fallen  again. 
Only  that  day  he  had  come  out  of  the  guard- 
room where  he  had  been  performing  a  pris- 
oner's menial  tasks.  What  was  to  be  the  end 
of  him  ?  Oh,  the  ironies  of  what  man  calls  fate  ! 
And  there,  in  that  other  cot,  with  a  ghostly  ray 
of  moonlight  creeping  over  the  old  brown  rug, 
lay  another "  had-been."  At  one  time  the 
most  popular  officer  in  a  crack  cavalry  old- 
country  regiment  :  a  man  who  had  the  respect 
of  his  brother  officers  and  the  love  and  confi- 
dence of  the  rank  and  file  ;  a  man  of  supposed 
large  private  means  and  influence  ;  for  whom 
there  were  great  things  in  store,  and  who  had, 
figuratively  speaking,  the  ball  at  his  foot.  And 
then — talk  of  it  shudderingly,  and  with  bated 
breath — was  it  something  at  cards?  or  did 
rumor  lie  ?  Be  it  as  it  might,  he  had  dropped 
out  of  that  distinguished  life  as  completely  as  if 
his  charger  had  been  led  riderless,  with  boots 
reversed,  on  the  soldier's  last  parade,  and  a 
volley  of  musketry  had  been  discharged  over 
his  grave.  There  were  some  who  said  it  had 


Some  Xives  from  tbe  IRanfca.      179 

been  better  so.  What  availed  now  his  medals 
and  clasps  for  distinguished  service  ?  He  durst 
not  wear  them,  lest  his  story  might  get  about. 
Perhaps  only  Dick  and  one  or  two  others  knew 
his  melancholy  history,  and  they  kept  it  a 
sacred  secret.  They  strove  in  pity  to  help  this 
man  who  had  erred,  not  because  he  had  once 
been  "  somebody  "  but  because  he  had  been 
punished  for  his  sins  and  was  himself  striving 
to  lead  a  new  life. 

There  in  that  other  cot  in  the  corner,  deep  in 
shadow,  lay  the  only  son  of  a  widowed  mother, 
who  with  him  had  been  left  penniless  by  some 
sudden  and  unexpected  monetary  crisis. 
Brought  up  to  a  life  of  ease  and  plenty,  he 
found  that  gifts  like  his  had  little  chance  of 
earning  salt  in  a  country  like  England,  where 
the  race  was  only  for  the  strong  and  the  trained. 
He  had  emigrated  to  Canada.  But  those  who 
employed  him — only  manual  labor  of  the  most 
unskilled  and  menial  sort  could  he  get — had 
after  a  brief  trial  of  him  dispensed  with  his  ser- 
vices. They  said  that,  no  matter  however  will- 
ing a  man  might  be,  the  hands  of  a  woman  and 
the  lack  of  bodily  strength  and  ordinary  skill 
would  not  suit  them.  Then  from  one  stage  of 
hardship  and  penury  to  another;  and  then, 
nothing  between  him  and  starvation  but  the  red 
coat.  Yes,  here  at  last  was  a  life  where  intelli- 
gence and  a  knowledge  of  horses  and  fire-arms 
would  stand  him  in  stead.  And  now  he  had 
taken  the  position  of  servant  to  an  officer,  in 
order  that  the  extra  five  dollars  a  month  which 
he  earned  by  it  might  swell  the  little  sum  that 
every  month,  with  religious  punctuality,  he  sent 
home  to  his  mother  and  sisters  in  the  Old 
Country.  Nor  did  he  stop  here,  but  blacked 
the  boots  of  many  of  his  comrades — many  of 
whom  had  some  little  private  means — so  that 
he  might  make  on  extra  ten  or  fifteen  cents  by 


i8o  Sinners  Gwatn. 

doing  so.  Think  of  it— a  graduate  of  one  of  the 
English  universities,  blacking  boots  and  flunkey- 
ing  for  those  who,  in  comparison  with  him, 
belonged  to  a  lower  order  of  beings  altogether, 
so  that  he  might  send  an  extra  ten  cents  to  a 
widowed  mother.  Noble  life  !  though  only  a 
matter  of  duty  some  may  say.  Nobility  and 
booting-blacking,  oh,  ye  gods  !  Yes,  my  mas- 
ters— ten  thousand  times  Yes  /—and  nobility  of 
a  very  much  higher  order  than  any  that  can  be 
granted  by  royal  letters  patent. 

Oh,  the  undreamt-of  tragedies !  oh,  the  pathos 
contained  in  the  histories  of  some  of  those  lives 
hidden  away  under  the  scarlet  tunic  of  the 
dragoon !  Those  lives,  the  greater  number  of 
which  were  more  wonderful  romances  than  any 
ever  penned  by  the  hand  of  man,  and  which 
were  now  bound  together  by  a  something  more 
than  the  merely  conventional  term  of  camara- 
derie— by  a  spirit  of  sympathy  and  common 
brotherhood.  Oh,  the  infinite  and  unspeakable 
possibilities  of  human  life!  But  beyond  the 
veil,  and  guiding  as  it  were  the  finger  of  what 
men  call  Destiny,  was  there  no  existent  great 
and  just  power  that  appealed  to  the  mind  and 
the  faith  of  those  tried  ones,  helping  them  to  do 
what  the  spirit  of  religion  demanded  of  them — 
which  was  to  crush  down  the  devil  in  them  that 
would  fain  rob  them  of  their  ultimate  reward  ? 

A  few  minutes  before,  Yorke  had  given  way  to 
this  demon  of  discontent  and  revolt  with  the  in- 
sidious whisperings.  But  he  had  thought  of  the 
lives  of  these  men  who  lay  side  by  side  with 
him.  These  lives  which  were  not  the  outcome 
of  a  puling  and  sickly  sentimentality,  such  as  is 
affected  by  the  drawing-room  scribe  who  has 
never  seen  life  outside  that  congenial  apart- 
ment, but  lives  in  the  rough,  the  lives  of  strong 
men  with  noble  aspirations  and  strong  passions 
— at  the  very  door  of  whose  hearts  the  very 


Some  Xives  from  tbe  IRanfcs.       i8t 

muse  of  Tragedy  herself  had  knocked.  What 
were  his  troubles  compared  with  theirs,  indeed  ? 
And  what  was  this  life  but  a  trial  of  faith  after 
all  ?  ...  Truly,  no  fight  no  victory. 

He  rose  from  his  cot,  and  going  down  on  his 
knees  did  what  he  had  neglected  to  do  for 
many  a  long  year — he  prayed.  He  was  not  the 
first  man  who  had  done  so  in  a  barrack-room  ; 
and,  perhaps,  there  were  those  near  him  who 
had  a  share  in  his  prayers. 

A  man's  prayers  are  always  answered,  if 
only — as  they  always  do — they  make  him  a 
better  man. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

OVERHEARD    BY  THE    OLD  CROW. 

SUMMER  in  New  England — a  quaint  old 
farm-house  with  straggling  outbuildings  hiding 
amid  a  wealth  of  rustling,  sweet-smelling  green- 
ery, and  an  air  of  peace  and  healthful  existence 
everywhere.  It  was  quite  a  patriarchal  place 
for  a  new  country  ;  for  Gabriel  St.  Denis  had 
bought  it  from  the  representatives  of  the  old 
Shaker  whose  forefathers  had  owned  and  tilled 
the  farm  for  over  a  hundred  years  before  him. 
It  was  a  one-storied,  roomy,  but  very  erratic 
house ;  for  a  room  had  been  added  to  the  main 
building  from  time  to  time,  probably  as  the  de- 
mand for  space  of  some  growing  family  had 
necessitated,  until  it  was  impossible  to  tell 
which  of  the  many  sides  of  the  house  consti- 
tuted the  front  and  which  the  back.  There 
was  nothing  to  guide  one  in  determining  this 
point,  for  there  were  three  different  porches  to 
it,  each  one  with  a  good  deal  of  old-fashioned 
trellis-work,  and  a  profusion  of  roses  and  honey- 
suckle sprawling  all  over  it.  Each  of  these 
three  porches  in  their  particular  day  had  in- 
dicated the  front  proper  of  the  house.  "  The 
times  change,  and  we  change  with  them," 
would  have  been  an  appropriate  motto  above 
each  doorway.  Perhaps  it  was  the  non-exist- 
ence of  that  damp,  bare,  stained,  slip-shod,  un- 
tidy side  to  this  house,  and  commonly  called 
"  the  back,"  that  contributed  to  the  mystery. 
There  were  beautiful  roses  trained  against  the 
walls  everywhere,  and  flower-pots  with  gerani- 
ums and  fuchsias  in  them  on  the  window-sills. 


©vcrbeard  bg  tbe  ©U>  Crow.      183 

Some  people  have  got  an  idea  that  you  cannot 
see  a  real  picture  of  rural  beauty  outside  the 
Old  Country,  but  then  some  people  never 
travel.  To  admire  another  place  need  not  be 
to  detract  from  the  beauty  of  a  home  picture. 
That  would  be  an  impossibility. 

In  the  bright  and  pleasant  sitting-room  by  the 
open  window  a  girl  sat  sewing  a  button  on  a 
shirt.  Now  there  is  not  much  poetry  in  a 
shirt-button  of  itself ;  but  when  a  pretty  girl  is 
sewing  one  on,  it  becomes  quite  another  thing. 
Therefore  the  button  and  the  shirt  were  quite 
in  keeping  with  the  idyllic  surroundings.  The 
girl's  head  was  mostly  somewhat  inclined  over 
her  work ;  but  from  time  to  time  she  lifted  it,  to 
smile  at  some  caustic  and  original  remark  that 
the  elderly,  dark-skinned  woman,  who  was  fold- 
ing some  snowy  linen  and  stowing  it  away  in  a 
little  sideboard,  was  addressing  to  her.  But, 
upon  the  whole,  the  girl,  who  was  Marie  St. 
Denis,  did  not  seem  to  take  that  interest  in  her 
self-imposed  task  that  she  ought  to  have  done  ; 
neither  did  the  volatile  and  cheerful  remarks  of 
Jeannette  seem  to  arouse  any  responsive  flow  of 
spirits  in  her;  her  thoughts  were  evidently 
otherwise  engaged.  The  girl  looked  at  some 
of  the  familiar  objects  of  the  old  Canadian  days 
that  were  ranged  around  her,  with  taste  and  sim- 
plicity, on  the  walls  of  that  low-roofed  room — 
the  miniature  bark  canoes,  the  tiny  snowshoes, 
the  plumed  and  beaded  tomahawks,  the  many 
beautiful  and  delicate  articles  of  the  Indian's 
and  half-breed's  skill  in  beadwork  (though  per- 
haps savoring  not  a  little  of  that  barbaric  rich- 
ness of  coloring  that  the  savage  loves),  the 
antique  coarse  blue  delf  that  came  from  France 
tvyo  hundred  years  before,  the  picturesque  spin- 
ning-wheel in  the  corner,  and  the  many  old- 
world  things  that  would  have  delighted  the 
heart  of  a  lover  of  bric-a-brac.  But,  still,  all 


184  Sinners  Gwatn, 

these  familiar  things  did  not  seem  to  bring  any 
sense  of  comfort  to  her. 

At  last  Marie  threw  down  the  shirt  on  which 
she  had  sewn  the  refractory  button,  gave  a 
little  half-querulous  sigh  as  if  of  relief,  and 
said — 

"  Do  you  know,  Jeannette,  I  don't  believe  it 
is  in  the  nature  of  any  human  being  to  be  ever 
really  happy.  When  we  were  upon  the  prairies 
in  Assiniboia  I  used  to  think  that  if  ever  I 
could  get  dad  to  come  away  to  where  there 
was  some  sort  of  civilization,  and  to  different 
scenes  and  associations — such  as  these  for 
instance,  I  could  be  quite  happy,  and  now  that 
I  have  had  my  wish,  that  he  is  happy,  and  even 
more  prosperous  than  he  was  on  the  ranche, 
there  are  times  when  everything  tires  and 
wearies  me  until  I  could  almost  wish  I  were 
back  again  on  Many-Berries  Creek." 

As  she  spoke  the  roses  stirred  and  nodded 
their  heads  at  the  open  window  as  if  in  assent ; 
there  was  a  subdued  and  drowsy  murmur  as 
of  myriads  of  busy  bees  among  the  honey- 
suckle and  flowers  of  the  old-fashioned  garden  ; 
there  was  a  scurry  and  chase  of  squirrels  and 
chipmuncks  across  the  stem  of  a  great  fallen 
tree  that  was  used  as  a  garden  seat  at  the  far 
and  shady  end  of  the  lawn ;  and  a  hawk  flew 
past  screeching,  followed  and  tormented  by  an 
avenging  crowd  of  small  birds.  A  butterfly  flut- 
tered in  through  the  open  window  with  all  the 
colors  of  the  rainbow  glorifying  its  wings ;  and 
the  spirit  of  that  beautiful  summer's  day 
seemed  to  speak  through  and  permeate  every 
living  thing.  Surely  here  if  anywhere  one 
ought  to  have  been  happy.  But  it  is  a  great 
mistake  that  modern  philosophers  make  when 
they  think  that  it  is  one's  physical  surroundings 
that  conduce  to  happiness — it  is  in  one's  rela- 
tions and  associations  with  humanity  that  one 


©verbearD  I>B  tbe  ©ID  Crow.       185 

is  happy  or  otherwise.  The  silence  of  the  coun- 
try is  the  worst  place  in  the  world  for  a  man  or 
woman  who  has  something  to  live  down.  The 
human  heart  and  its  promptings  are  at  all  times 
more  potent  than  the  mere  senses  ;  and  it  is 
only  in  work  and  in  mixing  with  the  busy  crowd 
that  we  can  ever  hope  to  escape  for  a  brief 
space  from  our  own  rebellious  selves.  Human 
nature  is  generally  speaking,  a  complex  and 
inexplicable  thing ;  but  perhaps  it  was  not  so 
very  strange,  after  all,  that  when  Marie  St. 
Denis  had  left  Canadian  Territory  with  all  its 
troubled  memories  behind,  the  heart-whole, 
happy  and  careless  light  that  used  to  dance  in 
her  eyes  seemed  to  have  been  left  behind  also, 
There  was  a  subtle  change  in  her ;  and  what  it 
exactly  was  she  herself,  perhaps,  only  imper- 
fectly knew. 

Suddenly  old  Jeannette  turned  to  her,  and,  as 
if  she  had  read  the  girl's  thoughts,  said  in  a 
quiet,  kindly  voice — 

"  Don't  fret,  Marie.  If  he  is  worth  having  he 
will  come  back  for  you,  child.  If  he  does  not 
come,  then,  you  are  well  rid  of  him  :  he  is  not 
worth  having,  and  the  best  thing  you  can  do  is 
to  forget.  Those  troopers  are  much  alike, 
what  I  have  seen  of  them." 

This  was  what  Jeannette  had  been  trying  to 
find  courage  to  say  for  several  weeks  and  now 
that  she  had  said  it  she  was  apprehensive  of  the 
consequences. 

"  Jeannette  ! "  cried  the  girl,  imploringly,  the 
warm  blood  suffusing  her  soft,  clear  skin. 
"  You  talk  as  if  I  had  taken  you  into  my  confi- 
dence, and  as  if  I  had  not  anything  else  to 
think  about.  You  talk  as  if  he — for  it  would  be 
nonsense  to  pretend  I  did  not  know  whom  you 
meant — had  been  a — a  sweetheart,  or  lover,  or 
something  of  that  sort.  Why,  he  never  once 
hinted  at— at  the  sort  of  thing  you  mean.  He 


i86  Sinners  {Twain. 

never  acted  differently  towards  me,  more  than 
any  stranger  would :  only  that  he  behaved  in  a 
very  friendly  manner  on  one  occasion.  I  often 
wish  now  that  I  had  cut  my  tongue  out  instead 
of  asking  a  favor  ;  for  I  believe  it  cost  him  his 
position.  The  thought  of  it  sometimes  drives 
me  almost  mad." 

And  as  if  she  could  trust  herself  no  further, 
she  rose  and  turned  her  back,  so  that  Jeannette 
could  not  see  her  face. 

"  It's  nothing  to  be  ashamed  of,  honey  ;  I've 
been  thar  myself,"  said  Jeannette,  smiling  sadly 
as  she  thought  of  it.  Then,  with  the  persistent 
inconsistency  of  some  good-hearted  women,  she 
went  on — "  But  I  think,  Marie,  he'll  come  back, 
if  I  am  a  judge  of  men  at  all.  I  liked  his  face  ; 
it  was  an  honest  one.  If  I  have  not  read  many 
books  I  have  all  my  life  been  learning  to  read 
faces,  and  in  his " 

But  the  girl  had  fled.  She  had  caught  up 
her  light  straw  hat,  and  with  eyes  that  were 
strangely  dry  and  bright,  and  cheeks  that  were 
strangely  flushed,  she  had  run  from  the'pictures- 
homestead,  along  the  soft  green  turf  that 
fringed  the  public  road,  and  under  the  shady 
limes  and  chestnuts.  She  avoided  the  shady 
pasture  field  into  which  her  father  was  helping 
the  manservant  to  drive  some  cattle.  She 
walked  on  till  she  came  to  a  little  rise,  and  then 
she  sat  down  on  the  grass. 

What  was  this  that  had  changed  the  current 
of  her  life  so,  that  came  into  her  thoughts  the 
first  thing  in  the  morning,  that  followed  her 
about  like  a  shadow  all  day,  and  that  colored 
her  dreams  at  night?  What  was  this  thing 
that  had  robbed  her  of  her  girlish  peace  of 
mind,  and  left  her  heartstrings  quivering  and 
vibrating  as  if  they  had  been  rudely  touched  by 
some  master  hand  ?  What  was  this  thing  that 
now  seemed  to  her  like  a  blessing,  and  now  like 


©verbearD  b£  tbe  ©l&  Grow.       187 

a  curse  ?  What  need  to  ask  when  it  comes  to 
nearly  every  one  sometime  or  other,  and  there 
is  no  power  on  earth  better  known  ?  It  is  that 
which  makes  or  mars  our  lives,  that  which  is 
older  than  the  hills — they  change — and  is  the 
primary  and  most  potent  instinct  of  our  beings ; 
it  is  that  which  makes  fools  of  philosopher  and 
sage,  and  makes  fools  divine ;  it  is  that  which 
is  graven  on  the  heart  of  Time,  can  blossom 
from  the  very  dust  of  death,  and  is  the  keynote 
of  existence. 

The  girl  looked  down  the  long,  dusty,  and 
tree-fringed  road,  which  with  many  a  dip  and 
gentle  rise  went  straight  on  to  the  nearest  rail- 
road town,  some  four  miles  away.  She  could 
see  a  figure  come  traveling  along  slowly,  about 
a  mile  or  so  off.  Now  it  was  on  the  top  of  a 
little  rise,  and  a  tiny  speck  it  seemed,  no  bigger 
than  a  fly,  and  then  it  was  lost  to  sight  in  one 
of  the  hollows ;  but  always  it  was  coming  nearer 
and  nearer. 

Strange  that  Marie  should  take  any  interest 
in  watching  a  speck  !  But  how  often  had  she 
built  up  castles  in  the  air  regarding  those  tiny 
specks  that  came  toiling  along,  and  as  they 
bore  in  sight  generally  resolved  themselves  into 
importunate  tramps,  or  even  individuals  of  the 
opposite  sex — women  !  She  had  often,  for  the 
sake  of  indulging  for  a  few  brief  minutes  in 
fond  expectant  hope,  tortured  and  disappointed 
herself  sadly,  and  she  had  time  and  again 
resolved  that  she  would  do  so  no  more.  But, 
perhaps,  she  did  not  know  the  strength  and  per- 
sistent nature  of  that  thing  which  had  taken 
possession  of  her,  for  day  after  day  her  footsteps 
had  mechanically  sought  that  road,  and  her  eyes 
had  wandered  wistfully  along  it. 

And  now  the  solitary  figure  of  the  traveler 
was  lost  to  sight,  and  again  it  appeared  on  the 
crest  of  the  rising  ground.  No  sooner  there 


i88  Sinners  Cwafn. 

than  it  shortened  and  disappeared  again.  A 
flock  of  dusty  and  noisy  small  birds  indulged  in 
a  dust-bath  within  a  few  feet  of  her  in  the  road- 
way. An  old  crow  perched  on  a  dead  limb 
right  above  her  (query — why  do  crows  prefer 
dead  limbs?),  and  who,  by  the  way  he  carried 
his  head  on  one  side,  looked  as  if  he  knew  a 
thing  or  two,  shut  one  eye  in  a  critical  fashion, 
and  looked  down  upon  her  inquiringly.  He 
was  an  inquisitive  old  crow :  he  had  followed 
the  girl  right  up  the  road  to  see  or  hear  what 
was  going  on.  It  is  sometimes  just  as  well, 
perhaps,  that  crows  can  only  talk  in  their  own 
language,  otherwise  the  amount  of  scandal  that 
would  be  floating  about  the  world  would  be 
something  horrible  to  contemplate.  It  is  a 
mistake  to  suppose  that  gossip  and  scandal  are 
confined  to  the  human  race.  Those  who  have 
lived  lonely  lives  in  the  bush  or  on  the  prairie, 
and  have  had  exceptional  opportunities  for 
observing,  can  testify  to  the  fact  that  certain 
kinds  of  birds  are  the  most  persistent  chatter- 
boxes in  the  world.  Then  the  girl  heard  a 
hurried  pattering  behind  her,  and  Michelle,  the 
great  hound,  came  scampering  up.  It  fawned 
upon  her,  and  gambolled  with  awkward  move- 
ments round  her.  "  Poor  Michelle,"  she  said, 
patting  the  dog  on  the  head ;  "  he  liked  you. 
You  never  used  to  growl  at  him  or  be  jealous  of 
him,  did  you  ?  " 

Suddenly  the  dog  lifted  its  head,  turned 
round,  sniffed  the  air,  looked  along  the  road 
inquiringly,  and  then  ran  a  few  paces  forward 
and  stopped.  Dogs  have  a  wonderfully  sympa- 
thetic sense. 

Then  the  girl's  heart  seemed  to  stand  still ; 
then  to  start  beating  so  violently  that  she 
placed  one  hand  upon  her  breast.  Her  limbs 
trembled  under  her.  She  stared  apprehensively 
at  the  approaching  figure.  There  was  a  some- 


©verbearD  b£  tbe  ©ID  Crow.       189 

thing  that  obscured  her  vision,  for  the  blood  at 
first  had  rushed  to  her  heart,  leaving  her  deadly 
pale,  then  had  rushed  to  her  head,  making 
everything,  as  it  were,  swim  before  her  eyes, 
and  her  heart  to  throb  almost  painfully.  Had 
the  end  of  the  world  come— or  the  beginning  ? 
And  now  she  saw  the  figure  was  that  of  a  tall, 
dark  individual  with  the  stride  of  a  cavalryman, 
who  carries  his  toes  slightly  turned  inwards,  as 
if  there  were  spurs  on  his  heels.  He  was 
dressed  in  ordinary  civilian  clothes. 

The  old  crow  on  the  rotten  limb,  whose 
attention  had  begun  to  wander,  roused  himself 
all  of  a  sudden,  and  gave  a  significant  and 
expectant  croak. 

Then  the  stranger  lifted  his  hat  from  his 
forehead  and  said — 

"  Miss  St.  Denis,  don't  you  remember  me  ?  " 

The  dog  crept  towards  him,  sniffed  at  him, 
and  did  not  growl  suspiciously  as  was  his  wont 
at  strangers,  then  dashed  at  him  with  boister- 
ous welcome. 

"  Down,  Michelle !  What  are  you  doing?" 
Marie  cried  to  the  dog,  as  if  it  were  a  relief  to 
her  to  say  something.  But  it  was  a  moment  or 
two  before  she  could  find  her  voice  to  talk  to 
the  stranger.  There  was  a  wistful,  hungry 
look  in  his  eyes  all  the  while.  He  looked  like 
one  who  was  only  controlling  himself  by  a 
strong  effort.  Then  she  turned  in  the  most 
matter-of-fact  way  in  the  world — 

"How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Yorke?  This  is 
indeed  a  surprise.  Who  would  have  thought 
of  seeing  you  in  this  part  of  the  world  ?  " 

She  was  wonderfully  self-possessed  now  this 
girl,  so  much  so,  indeed,  that  perhaps  it  was 
hardly  natural.  A  stranger  would  have  been 
puzzled  just  then  to  have  guessed  in  what  rela- 
tionship these  two  stood  to  each  other. 

Even  the  old  crow  looked  puzzled  for  a  sec- 


190  Sinners  {Twain. 

pnd  or  two.  He  knew  that  all  men  were  liars 
in  a  more  or  less  polished  or  brutal  way,  hut 
that  this  pretty  slip  of  a  girl  should  have 
reduced  it  to  a  fine  art  fairly  staggered  him. 
No  wonder  he  was  a  cynical  old  crow. 

"  I  have  just  been  wondering  for  some 
months  back  if  you  would  be  surprised  to  see 
me  again,"  he  answered  slowly,  and  somewhat 
irrelevantly,  watching  the  girl's  face  intentlv,  as 
if  he  would  have  liked  to  have  drawn  some  in- 
ference from  it.  "  I  hope  you  are  glad  to  see 
me  ?  "  he  added. 

"  Oh,  of  course,"  she  rejoined  quickly,  as  if 
she  thought  that  perhaps  she  had  not  been 
quite  so  civil  to  him  as  she  might  have  been  ; 
'  and  my  father  will  be  glad  to  see  an  old 
friend,  for  you  know  you  were  one  to  him." 

The  hound  made  another  circular  bound  into 
the  roadway,  and  scattered  the  little  birds  right 
and  left.  As  for  the  old  crow,  he  leant  back  on 
his  perch  until  he  was  in  imminent  danger  of 
falling  off  backwards,  and  chuckled  hoarsely 
and  grimly  to  himself,  as  if  he  were  immensely 
tickled  over  something.  He  looked  as  if  he 
thanked — goodness  knows  what— that  he  was  a 
crow  and  not  a  stupid  human  being.  He  was  a 
satirical  old  crow,  and  looked  as  if  he  had  in- 
deed seen  life.  An  apoplectic  seizure  after  hear- 
ing some  spicier  piece  of  scandal  than  usual 
shall  one  day  be  his  ultimate  fate.  Pessimists 
and  cynics  and  such-minded  creatures  as  this 
crow,  by  the  way,  are  generally  those  who  have 
not  only — if  the  truth  could  only  be  brought 
home  to  them — run  the  gamut  of  earthly 
pleasures,  but  by  violating  Nature's  laws  have 
destroyed  their  capacity  for  further  emjoy- 
ment;  it  is  worse  than  a  dog-in-the-manger 
spirit.  But  perhaps  this  particular  old  crow 
was  not  quite  so  bad  as  some  of  his  kind. 

"  Marie  "—the  girl   looked    up  and  started 


tbe  ©U>  Crow.       191 

slightly  as  she  heard  him  pronounce  her  name 
— "  is  this  all  you  have  to  say  to  me  ?  is  this  all 
the  welcome  you  have  for  me  ?  " 

The  old  crow  became  impatient  and 
scratched  his  head  vigorously  with  one  foot. 

"  We  might  shake  hands,"  she  suggested, 
calmly,  but  with  her  breath  coming  quickly  and 
with  heightened  color  in  her  cheeks. 

She  held  out  one  hand  to  him  timidly,  but  he 
caught  both  of  hers — and  held  them. 

"  Ha — a,  ha — a  !  "  cawed  the  old  reprobate 
up  on  the  dead  limb.  Then  he  broke  into  a 
hoarse  laugh,  but  pulled  himself  up  short,  and 
tried  to  look  as  if  he  had  only  been  clearing  his 
throat.  He  wanted  to  see  the  whole  of  the 
comedy. 

Harry  Yorke  looked  steadily  into  her  eyes, 
and  she  in  turn  looked  shyly  into  his  as  he  held 
her  in  front  of  him. 

"  Marie,"  he  said  again,  after  an  awkward 
pause,  "  do  you  know  what  has  brought  me 
here  ?  " 

"  Why — why  do  you  ask  me  this  ? "  she 
asked,  evasively ;  but  she  was  shaking  like  a 
leaf,  and  her  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  ground  be- 
fore her. 

"  Because  I  wanted  to  tell  you  that  you 
have,"  was  the  answer.  "  I  want  you  to  tell  me 
that  I  have  not  done  wrong  in  coming,  and  that 
you  are  glad  to  see  me." 

"  Don't  you  think  you  are  asking  me  to 
undertake  a  rather  heavy  contract  ? "  she  re- 
joined, the  perverse  and  inscrutable  promptings 
of  old  Mother  Eve  and  the  instincts  of  her 
better  self  each  having  their  share  in  the  fram- 
ing and  significance  of  this  question. 

"  Heavy ! "  he  repeated,  somewhat  taken 
aback,  and  a  sudden  sense  of  fear  seizing  him. 
"  Is  it,  then,  such  a  very  hard  thing  to  do  ?  " 

"  But  is  it  necessary  to  do  it  ?  "  she  persisted, 
ignoring  his  question. 


192  Sinners  Gwatn. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  he  asked,  fearfully, 
still  impenetrable  to  the  drift  of  her  protest. 
There  is  no  more  stupid  creature  under  the  sun 
than  a  man  when  he  is  in  love.  "  What  is  it 
you  imply  ?  " 

"  That  you  are  like  Thomas— of  little  faith," 
was  the  comment,  with  unruffled  severity, 
"  since  you  think  it  necessary  to  probe  an  old 
wound  and  view  the  print  of  the  nails.  Is 
there  not  anything  you  can  take  on  trust  ?  " 

The  old  crow  on  the  rotten  limb  lost  patience 
with  the  short-sighted  male  animal  at  this  point, 
and  swore  at  him  in  a  way  that  only  a  crow  or 
a  Queensland  bullock-driver  can.  He  had  a 
sense  of  the  fitness  of  things  at  times,  this  old 
crow. 

.  But  when  she  lifted  her  eyes  from  the  ground 
and  looked  into  his  he  understood  her.  He 
drew  her  to  him  after  the  manner  of  lovers  from 
time  immemorial  and  kissed  her.  "  I  thought 
you  would  come  back  to  me,"  she  cried,  in  a 
broken  voice.  There  was  nothing  enigmatical 
in  her  talk  now ;  had  there  been,  the  way  she 
kissed  him  on  the  lips  would  have  explained 
matters. 

They  lingered  there  so  long — as  lovers  will 
linger— holding  each  other's  hands,  and  talking 
about  such  trivial  things  in  such  tragical  tones — 
the  usual  things,  the  usual  tones — that  Michelle, 
the  hound,  grew  disgusted  at  the  want  of  atten- 
tion paid  him,  and  trotted 'off  home  with  his 
tail  between  his  legs.  The  sun  had  disappeared 
over  the  tree-tops  when  these  two  happy  ones 
wandered  back  to  the  farm-house  hand  in  hand 
to  have  a  talk  with  Gabriel,  and  to  confirm 
Jeannette  in  her  belief  that  she  was  a  prophet. 

As  for  the  old  crow,  who  was  in  no  particular 
hurry  home — he  belonged  to  the  Order  of  the 
Latchkey — he  chattered  and  chuckled  to  him- 
self in  a  most  outrageous  fashion ;  rolled  his 


©verbcaro  bg  tbe  ©ID  Crow.       193 

head  about  till  he  became  giddy ;  made  matters 
worse  by  trying  to  stand  rakishly  on  one  leg, 
and  nearly  fell  off  his  perch ;  swore  so  terribly 
at  this  that  he  choked,  gasped  for  breath,  and 
recovered  ;  got  struck  with  a  new  idea ;  winked, 
but  kept  closing  both  eyes  at  once ;  leered  hor- 
ribly instead,  and  generally  misconducted  him- 
self after  the  manner  of  elderly  crows  who 
have  led  a  fast  life.  Old  crows  are  ten  times 
worse  than  young  ones.  Then  he  flew  off  to 
retail  his  own  version  of  the  affair  to  his  own 
particular  cronies — mostly  like  himself — at  his 
own  particular  club.  Crows  are  such  inveterate 


Twentieth  Century  Series. 

An  important  new  series  of  copy- 
righted novels,  in  convenient  size,  with 
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moderate  price  of  75  cents. 

IN  THE  MIDST  OP  ALARMS. 

BY  ROBERT  BARR. 

"A  very  readable  and  clever  story." — New  York  Sun. 

"Mr.  Barr  is  a  vigorous  writer." — Philadelphia 
Times. 

"A  charming  story  told  in  an  exceeding  bright  and 
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Herald. 

THE  DEVIL'S  PLAYGROUND. 

BY  JOHN  MACKIE. 

A  stirring  story  of  frontier  life  in 
Canada.  It  keeps  the  reader  interested 
from  the  first  to  the  last. 

"It  is  a  simply,  but  tragically  conceived  story  of 

the  wild  North- West.     It  possesses  the  reality  of  a 

tale  spoken  from  the  life," — London  Literary  World. 

"Full  of  excellent  and  graphic  pictures." — The 

Whitehall  Review. 

THE  FACE  AND  THE  MASK. 
A  collection  of  short  stories  by  Rob- 
ert Barr. 
Other  volumes  will  follow  shortly. 

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